


Notes of a Never-Ending Melody

by SonicCeleste



Series: Crystals and Rolanberries [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bard Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Dancer Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), patch 5.3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2020-12-30 20:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicCeleste/pseuds/SonicCeleste
Summary: A collection of shorter stories based around No’a Katri, a Keeper Bard and Warrior of Light.





	1. The Trouble with Names - WoL/G’raha Tia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1: The Trouble with Names
> 
> G’raha hasn’t kept up with current events and is wondering why everyone’s looking at him funny when he declares the Crystal Tower research group’s name.

“You’re joking, right?”

In the middle of the fields of Mor Dhona, a silence fell across the small group of would-be Crystal Tower researchers. Cid folded his arms and sighed loudly; Biggs and Wedge looked at each other with uncertainty; Rammbroes shook his head with the energy of someone who knew this situation would happen. The quiet adventurer G’raha Tia had been playing with earlier looked flatly at the grinning redhead Miqo’te in front of him.

“Why would I joke about something so integral to our new legacy as the ones who deciphered the secrets of the Crystal Tower?” G’raha said, his smile ceasing to fade as he gestured dramatically. “Our group name should be something important, something striking, something beautiful that people will remember forever in the pages of history!”

“Right…” The adventurer nodded slowly. “Well, can’t say that’s not flattering, especially coming from a guy like you...”

G’raha blinked once, then twice. “What do you mean, a guy like-“

“... but surely naming the group after me is just going to get confusing?” The adventurer asked.

G’raha frowned, tilting his head. “But... it’s not named after you,” he said slowly.

“G’raha...” Rammbroes sighed, holding his head in one hand. “Regardless of the fact that we never needed a name to begin with, did you ever consider that name would be detrimental?”

The redhead Miqo’te’s ears flicked in frustration. “What’s so awful about naming the group NOAH? It’s a name rooted in Allagan history!”

“I thought he said that it was a nickname some kid gave him,” Wedge muttered. Biggs nodded and turned to G’raha.

“If I’m understanding you correctly, G’raha... You’re saying that you didn’t name the group after No’a?”

Fluffy red ears flicked forward. The way Biggs said the name, with the “a” sound pronounced ever-so-slightly differently, caught the Miqo’te’s attention. A different, but similar name? Huh... What were the odds?

“... Who’s No’a?” G’raha asked, tilting his head.

A collective groan sounded throughout the group again while the adventurer looked like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Judging by the reaction, maybe he really did stay in the company of books for too long...

The quiet adventurer suddenly chuckled and slowly stepped forward, deep blue chapeau shading his unreadable face, until he was only a fulm or two away from the Miqo’te. He took off his hat carefully, brushing down his long hair before looking up at G’raha and grinning, blue ears flicking as he held out his hand.

“No’a Katri, Bard extraordinaire, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and realm-saving Warrior of Light. Nice to meet you, sweetness.”

… Oh. Now that he thought about it, G’raha had heard of a Warrior of Light in recent months, someone who managed to best Primals and hold his own against the Garleans, never mind win against them. It hasn’t really interested him at the time, imagining some broad, stocky paladin bloke who could brute force his way through anything - not something he would find particularly noteworthy both as himself and as a historian. Now that he was standing in front of the man himself, though... he was glad to be proved wrong, for once. Very glad.

G’raha opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. “... Um.”

“By the Twelve, he’s speechless,” Rammbroes chuckled. “Someone ask Camp Dragonhead if the Behemoths are flying too!”

G’raha shot him a look before firmly shaking No’a’s hand. He knew male Keepers were uncommon, but from what he did know, most of them were usually quite reserved - No’a seemed quite the opposite, cheerful and sociable, which wasn’t a bad thing. It was just... odd.

Not like he had the right to complain about something being odd.

Cid shook his head. “Right, well, now that No’a’s finished flirting...”

“Right! Yes! The expedition!” G’raha suddenly spoke up, releasing No’a’s hand when he realised he’d held onto it for far longer than was necessary. “Well, as I said, NOAH is a notable name from Allagan times - specifically the name of a vaunted Allagan archmagus. I dare say he’s more of a marvel than our friend here-“

“Oh, how cruel!” No’a gasped, putting a hand to his heart in an overdramatic manner.

“-so I propose we keep the name. If that doesn’t quite suit your logically-minded fancy, it could also stand for Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical. What say you?”

Wedge crossed his arms and thought. “An archmagus...” Suddenly he jumped in surprise, looking up at G’raha. “Wait, you’re saying our group should be put on the same scale as an Allagan archmagus? I like the sound of that!”

G’raha grinned at the Lalafell’s enthusiasm, sharing a thumbs up in approval. Biggs similarly agreed, while Cid and Rammbroes simply looked at the other Miqo’te in the pack.

“Well, what do you think, oh-so-vaunted Warrior of Light?” G’raha teased. “Maybe if you prove yourself in this expedition, the name NOAH could have three meanings!”

No’a laughed quietly, giving another cheesy grin as he shrugged. G’raha’s ears subconsciously flicked forward to focus keenly on his voice. “Well, I could always pretend anyway, couldn’t I? Alright, if that’s what you want, I’m in for NOAH.”

The redhead Miqo’te clapped his hands together triumphantly. “NOAH it is! My thanks, No’a.”

“No worries, but if you ever wanted to return the favour, Seventh Heaven has this most spectacular mead we could try...”

Rammbroes looked between the two and deeply sighed again. This expedition was going to be a long one, and not just for how tall the Crystal Tower was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk I freaked out when I was playing Crystal Tower and this happened - talk about happy coincidences! More story opportunities! Yaaaaaay


	2. Weather Inappropriate - WoL (& Alisaie at the end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When signing yourself up for a dungeon run that could literally be ANYWHERE, maybe dress for any potential weather.
> 
> No’a learns this.

Every adventurer knows that when you sign up for a training roulette, everything is random. Until the four of you are warped into the dungeon together, you don’t know who you’re going to be with, or what environment you’re going to be in.

Neither of these random factors smiled on No’a during his Dancer training.

“Oh, you’ve GOT to be kidding me...” The Miqo’te muttered as he threw his war quoits at Fenrir. Turns out he’d ended up in Snowcloak, which he definitely didn’t expect if his loose trousers, sandals and absence of a shirt where anything to go by. The team he’d been put with were nice enough and were getting the job done, but he noticed that the poor White Mage girl was struggling to keep up with the Dark Knight and the Dragoon the entire journey. That eventually came to a head when they started fighting Fenrir, who was waiting for them at the end of the cave - they had it on the ropes when the great lumbering beast suddenly leapt for the Dark Knight, then the Dragoon, knocking them both out instantly. Now the main target, No’a started running around the makeshift arena while the young White Mage tried desperately to concentrate on healing. To her credit, she had managed a spell or two, but then Fenrir called up that bloody blizzard spell and froze her to the floor, taking the opportunity to pounce on her and take her out.

So now he was in an ice cave with his comrades knocked out, desperately dodging Fenrir’s attacks while also trying not to freeze to death in the extremely thin outfit he had worn for Ala Mhigan weather.

_ Fucking lovely _ , he thought.

“Shit shit  _ shit _ , don’t die, don’t die...” No’a repeated to himself as he ran, desperately throwing his war quoits behind him in a bid to hurt the beast some more. He had his Peloton and Arm’s Length spells up, but even so Fenrir didn’t need to catch up with him to use its own ice spells, and they had him losing more and more of his strength by the second. No’a was almost certain he was just running on adrenaline now - he couldn’t feel his legs as he ran, though whether that was exhaustion or the early onset of frostbite he wasn’t sure; his head pounded and the scar across his chest ached with every heavy breath; and his attacking had fallen into a subconscious pattern of “run, catch, run, throw, run, catch, run, throw”. He wondered if he could keep on doing this. Probably not, he decided - the frostbite would kick in eventually.

But he couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. They were so close before everyone got knocked out, and even if he was freezing his ears off there was no way in the seven hells he’d fall to some overgrown pup when he’d just helped liberate two countries back-to-back. He imagined that on his gravestone -  _ “No’a Katri, Warrior of Light, felled by some insignificant beast in a cave in the middle of fucking nowhere while half-naked”. _

He giggled at the thought. He was definitely going delirious.

It was during his twelfth lap around the battle arena that Fenrir had finally caught on to No’a’s strategy, stopping dead in his tracks and calling up that godsforsaken icicle spell that made the dancer leap out of the way, and with that leap went most of his energy. No’a knew he didn’t have long before he couldn’t move any further, and he started to panic - if he couldn’t move, he couldn’t  _ dodge _ , and the last time he couldn’t dodge an attack in these clothes... well, the tightened scar tissue across his chest was enough of a reminder. He could keep attacking, but that wouldn’t nearly be enough to topple it all by himself. He needed something big, something powerful, something  _ deadly _ ...

“... Ah.”

No’a grinned to himself and, while Fenrir was recovering from his spell, used his last burst of strength and sprinted to the other end of the arena, leaving his war quoits at his hips as he started focusing on the aether around him, energy crackling at his hands. He spun around and took a deep breath - might as well make a moment out of it if this was potentially how he was going to die, right?

“OI! FURBALL!! FIGHT ME!!”

... Well, at least no-one was around to hear it.

Fenrir stared at him, then growled as it got into a sprinting stance. No’a considered his position as the aether at his hands started to come into physical form - if he didn’t land this hit, he was as good as dead. If he landed the hit, well, he just had to pray his limbs didn’t fall off from the cold before he left.

He shivered with cold and anticipation, and laughed to himself again. Yup,  _ definitely _ going delirious.

The aether had turned into crossbows in his hands, which he aimed at Fenrir. Fenrir howled and started running towards him, fangs bared and ready to kill.

“Menphina above,  _ please _ let this work.”

An explosion of energy surged between the two, lighting the arena up as No’a closed his eyes and focused on keeping his position. He could feel Fenrir near him, but... There was a growl, a cry, then... nothing.

“Woah. Nice.”

No’a jumped, turning around as the Dragoon slowly sat up and stared behind him. The Miqo’te looked back and saw a giant furry lump, shockingly still. He did it - Fenrir was dead.  _ Holy shit he did it. _ He stared at the lump, then back at the dragoon, then the lump, then finally the dragoon again, giving a tired lopsided grin as his adrenaline high faded and reality quickly set in. Cold, exhausted reality.

“Yeah... Nice.”

He promptly fell to his knees and collapsed onto the icy floor.

———————————————————

“You are an absolute  _ moron _ of a Miqo’te.”

No’a sheepishly grinned at Alisaie as the healers at Rhalgr’s Reach fussed over him, wrapping him in blankets and rushing to and fro with various herbs and medicines. “In my defence, I didn’t know where the roulette would take me.”

“But you knew that there was a possibility of it being somewhere cold.”

“... Yeah, shut up.”

Alisaie glared at him before crossing her arms and sighing. “The second they say you’re free to go, I’m dragging you to the market in Gridania and you’re going to buy a shirt. Or a coat, or literally anything rather than going around... topless. It’s crude.”

“Aw, but Alisaie, the people need to see this physique!” He teased, grinning. “Plus it works wonders for getting free drinks.”

“For the entirely wrong reasons...” The young Elezen looked flatly at him. “And your  _ ‘physique’ _ is useless if you die frozen and alone half-naked in a cave in the middle of nowhere.”

“Funny you say that, actually - that was what I was imagining on my gravestone at the time.”

“Of course it was. You’re still a moron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an actual thing that happened while I was levelling Dancer: https://twitter.com/sonicceleste/status/1187459752059691010
> 
> That was super clutch and after I calmed down from it I went “I NEED to write that”, so, yeah.


	3. The Barfly’s Sister - WoL & OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (During ARR) No’a flirts for free drinks but gets too many. His older sister Qhita drags him out of danger and slaps him round the face.

“May I say -*hic*- sir, that your armour is-*hic*- verrrry pleasing to the eye! You… you must take good care-*hic*- good care of it, hehehe…”

The Hyur at the bar looked down at the Miqo’te admiring his face in his polished chest plate and smirked. He had been sitting around long enough to watch the young man slowly making his rounds with various patrons, charming them into buying him things - mostly alcohol, he noticed. And being such a small thing, he was obviously very intoxicated already… and he seemed to be alone.

Perfect.

“Thanks, precious,” the Hyur said, chuckling darkly as he grabbed the Miqo’te’s chin and lifted it upwards to meet his face. Long blue hair fell in front of the Miqo’te’s eyes and rosy cheeks but he gave a bright, lopsided grin regardless. Such a pretty face - oh, how he’d have fun with this one. “Why don’t we go somewhere so I can show you just how well I can polish things?”

“Yeahhh? I can see your armour some-*hic*- some more?” The Miqo’te asked, tail waving slowly up.

“I can show you  _ much _ more than that, sweetheart~”

“You fucking do that and you’ll get a poison arrowhead where the sun don’t shine, ya bastard.”

The Hyur grunted and looked up to see another Miqo’te, a woman with short blue hair and rolanberry red war paint, glaring daggers at him. “Who the fuck are you? What’s your deal?”

The other Miqo’te walked slowly up to him until she was up in his face, magenta eyes narrowing as she spoke very slowly in a rough voice. “None of your godsdamned business who I am. Now let go of the dumbass you’re trying to take advantage of before I make sure you can never fuck again with that slimy dick of yours.”

They stared at each other for a long time before the Hyur growled and let go, grumbling about needing another drink. The woman nodded wordlessly, grabbing the arm of the drunk Miqo’te and dragging him out of the bar, but not before turning around and looking back in the Hyur’s direction.

“Might be best not to mention how you tried to knowingly fuck someone while they’re too wasted to think straight!” she called out from the door with a knowing smirk. Suddenly the bar fell silent, all eyes falling on the Hyur as he froze.

_ Shit _ .

The Miqo’te woman sighed, practically pulling the other along until they were both a safe distance from the bar and in the cover of the Shroud.

“Sissss, what’s the big-*hic*- deal? I just wanted-“

The Miqo’te woman slapped her brother across the face so hard that he stumbled and almost faceplanted onto the floor. “Vhano’a Katri, you fucking idiot. Waited two and a half bells to trade with ya back home and you’re pullin’ your usual schtick. I thought we talked about this.”

No’a winced and rubbed his cheek, looking down and pouting. “Ow… I just wanted some food, Qhita… I had it-*hic*- had it under control-“

“He was trying to get you into his bed, moron,” Qhita interrupted sternly. “And food isn’t gonna help you now with how much you’ve had already. Where are your bloody Scion friends, anyway? Don’t they pay you?”

No’a tried to get up from his kneeling position but quickly gave up, instead sitting on the ground and staring at the grass. “They all ‘ave other things, n’ gettin’ stuff for free’s more fuuuun! I can be all sociable n’ shit, Qhita! I don’t have t’-*hic*- be all moody like the other guys!”

“Other guys” meant the other men from the Katri tribe. Qhita knew of her brother’s dislike of them, how they always seemed so unsociable and unwilling to talk to him on the rare chance they visited when he was a child. Still…

Qhita sighed and knelt down. “Being sociable and being a barfly are two  _ very _ different things, Vhano’a. One of these days something awful’s gonna happen because of your mooching on free drinks, and I’m not gonna be around to haul your butt out before you get in trouble, ya hear?”

No’a made a noncommittal noise, still not looking at her. Qhita’s ears flicked in irritation as she ran a hand through her hair. “Menphina above, you’re fucking stubborn when you’re drunk… Fine, be like that. At least promise you won’t flirt your way to more drinks than you can handle? In exchange, I’ll tell Mum you were caught up in this new “Scion business” and keep quiet that you’ve been hitting on people at least 10 years older than you.”

No’a was silent for a moment. “... He didn’t look in his thirties.”

“He was very obviously greying, dumbass, he must’ve at least been in his late thirties if not early forties. He’s not even the type you go for in men, I don’t know what you were thinking hitting on him.”

“I thought he just had silver hair, like the-*hic*- cute Elezen lady that bought me fishcakes-”

“Vhano’a,” Qhita said flatly, realising he was trying to change the conversation. “Promise me.”

No’a’s tail flicked back and forth as he thought, head tilting before he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Good,” Qhita said with a smile before standing up. “Oh, ‘fore I forget, you left this at the bar.” She handed him his hempen hat with an amused smile. “Why don’t you just wear sunglasses like other Keepers?”

“S’a conversation starter,” he mumbled as he put it back on. Qhita laughed, and No’a joined in - it seemed the crisp night air was sobering him up somewhat, at least.

“Right, let’s get you to The Roost, and I’ll get ya some tea for the morning, because you are  _ definitely _ gonna be hungover. You can visit home tomorrow, yeah?” Qhita said, more a statement than a question. No’a grinned and nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks, sis.”

“Any time, dumbass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve mentioned Qhita a couple of times in fics but never actually got around to writing about her until now! She’s 5 years older than No’a and the best hunter in the Katri tribe, but also the roughest.


	4. Sweet Treat - WoL/Exarch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No’a falls in love with a new sweet Hanji-Fae calls Pokki, and subsequently discovers a new way to tease G’raha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s still Pocky Day somewhere, right?

It was early in the day when G’raha and No’a walked through the Musica Universalis marketplace. The bard was retelling his latest exploits with the pixies in Kholusia when something caught his eye, making him stop and stare.

“Raha,” he whispered despite no-one being around, grabbing the Exarch’s sleeve. “Raha, love, I have a _ need _ .”

G’raha followed No’a’s gaze to Hanji-Fae’s shop, which was advertising a brand new hit sweet, and subsequently No’a as he walked over, fluffy blue tail high in the air as if in a trance. He smirked as he followed, remembering No’a’s usual baker at one of the stalls outside. “Arlene’s going to be upset that you’ve betrayed her, you know.”

No’a glanced back at him and pouted childishly. “Well then, she should’ve made new sweets first!” He turned back to the Mystel girl and put on his brightest smile. “What exactly are these, by the way?”

Hanji-Fae giggled at the two. “I call them Pokki. They’re biscuit sticks dipped in chocolate - at first it was to reinforce the biscuit because it was so thin, but then I realised how great it’d be as a snack! If you leave one side undipped, you can carry it around easily, see?” She picked one up to demonstrate, adding a dramatic hand flourish that made G’raha chuckle.

“That’s brilliant.” No’a suddenly slammed down numerous gil on the display case. “I’ll take them all.”

“No he won’t,” G’raha immediately replied, gently nudging a determined No’a back from the startled girl. “We’ll take two boxes, though, if that’s alright?”

Hanji-Fae nodded, counting the right amount of coins and giving No’a his change before packing up the boxes together and giving them to the redhead Miqo’te. He nodded thankfully and started walking in the direction of his garden, the bard close at his heels as he stared at the package the whole journey.

“Pokki, huh?” No’a said, ears flicking excitedly. “Man, if these taste good, I’m only eating those for the next month. They’re so practical! I bet they’re quiet too - I could use these for a sugar rush when hunting, don’t you think so, Raha?”

“Mmhm,” G’raha hummed nonchalantly as he climbed the stairs of the watchtower, smiling at No’a’s enthusiasm. “You need to taste them first, though.”

They eventually reached the top of G’raha’s favourite watchtower, sitting together by the edge as they gazed up at the early morning sky. He handed No’a one box and opened the other himself, picking up one of the Pokki sticks and biting off a chunk with a satisfying muted  _ snap. _

Hm.

It tasted like any other biscuit, if G’raha was being completely honest, but he could definitely see the appeal of it. Different flavours might work… He’d have to share his thoughts with Hanji-Fae later.

“I could see this getting popular,” he said, muffled with the Pokki stick still in his mouth. “What do you think-“

He looked next to him to see No’a staring at him intensely with a grin on his face. He knew that grin. It was  _ mischievous. _

Before he could ask what he was doing, No’a leant in close, maintaining heavy eye contact that made the Exarch freeze… and quickly bit off the biscuit end of the stick, grinning again.

“Now you gotta touch the chocolate~” the bard sang playfully, chuckling to himself as he quickly scarfed down another Pokki stick, ears flicking happily. “Mm, these are really moreish…”

Then he noticed G’raha hadn’t moved.

He looked over at G’raha again, who was still frozen in place with his face as red as his hair. “You ok, sweetness?” he asked cautiously with an uncertain smile. The Exarch nodded furiously, Pokki stick bouncing up and down in his mouth.

No’a suddenly had an idea, and that mischievous grin was back.

He turned to face G’raha properly, planting his hands on either side of the Miqo’te. He leant in once again, this time with a teasing, heavy-lidded look, and slowly started eating G’raha’s Pokki stick, bite by bite,  _ loving _ how he slowly became more flustered the closer he got -  _ adoring _ the sound of the redhead’s tail thumping against the wooden floor of the watchtower through his robes. Eventually there was barely anything left of the sweet treat, and No’a went in for the kill - he wrapped an arm around to hold the back of G’raha’s head and kissed him deeply. G’raha made a small noise of surprise that quickly melted into a quiet moan, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the kiss. The rich taste of the chocolate lingered between them, and when they both pulled away, G’raha couldn’t help but lick his lips and blush.

… Wait, where did…?

G’raha looked up to see No’a with a stub of a Pokki stick hanging out of his mouth for a split second before he ate it shamelessly, grinning.

Oh.

_ Oh no that was hot. _

G’raha groaned and buried his face into the bard’s shoulder, ears folded back in heavy embarrassment. “Wicked white, you are  _ impossible. _ ”

“But you love me anyway,” No’a replied with a chuckle, stroking behind the Exarch’s ears softly.

G’raha hummed happily, not arguing one way or the other. What he did know, however, was that he was  _ definitely _ buying Pokki on a more regular basis.


	5. Gift - WoL/Exarch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a cat that brings in half-dead mice, plays with them, then just... lets them scurry around without finishing the job. This is dedicated to my asshole cat.

“What… do you have there, No’a?”

Lyna and the rest of the Crystarium guards at the gate stared, dumbfounded, at the grinning Mystel as he tightened a knot holding together multiple pieces of rope wrapped around some kind of enormous bird carcass.

“It’s a gift for the Exarch,” No’a replied with obvious pride. “It’s called a Supay apparently - had a load of hunters in the Greatwood help me kill it, though they weren’t too interested in what happens to it after. It’s too bad really, something this big usually makes a killing in the markets… Maybe it’s the rumour going around that it’s a scary child-eating bird? Maybe it’s the giant face on its body? Who knows. I thought I’d give it to Sweetness, though with how massive this catch is, you might get a bit too, Ly!”

Putting the fact that he called her grandfather ‘Sweetness’ firmly at the back of her mind, Lyna grimaced, looking up at the giant carcass behind him. “I’ll pass, thank you... How did you even carry it over here? The Greatwood is so far away, and you’d have to fight any creatures looking to get a bite of that. It’d take at least ten of our soldiers for something like that.”

No’a shrugged and held up the giant knot of rope, the bird shifting as the ropes moved. “Animals left us alone, actually. As for carrying it, I had a bunch of spare rope from helping with a restoration, so I used that to drag it back. There’s some tree bark underneath it too so it doesn’t get too dirty or cut up - typical fare for hauling something like this when you don’t know if it’s going to be cut up for meat or plucked or something. Oooh, I bet the meat tastes delicious…”

If she wasn’t so disturbed by the fact the giant dead bird was a  _ gift _ , Lyna might’ve been impressed with the Warrior of Darkness’ hunting knowledge. Regardless, she glanced back through the gates, at the Crystarium, and frowned.

“No’a, I’m sure the Exarch would… appreciate a gift like this, but we can’t let you drag it in like that only to have it be deemed unnecessary and have you drag it all the way back out. Wait here, and I’ll-“

A figure running towards them suddenly caught her eye. “Oh. Never mind.”

No’a spotted the figure as well, waving with both hands and pointing to the beast behind him. “Exarch!! I brought you a present!”

The Exarch stopped in front of the pair, catching his breath as he gazed up at the dead Supay, then at No’a. “I saw… mirror…  _ Why? _ ”

No’a grinned and gestured dramatically at his catch, the ropes jostling the carcass again. “It’s a present for you, sweetness! Think of all the ways you could use this - the meat, the bones, the feathers, the weird face on its stomach,  _ everything _ ! Anyone would kill to have something like this back home!”

“I… see.” G’raha gave a small, uneasy smile. Usually, if No’a gave him anything like this, it was a piece of an animal, like a tooth, a bone, or a bit of its skin - grotesque to some (Lyna made it clear she was not to receive anything like that), but the Exarch could understand why No’a did it. As a Seeker himself, long ago, he knew that being raised as a hunter meant it was very rare to keep bits and pieces of animals you kill due to trade; to actually give those bits and pieces away to someone rather than sell them off meant that person was highly thought of. Besides, once cleaned up they were quite remarkable to look at, in all honesty.

A entire, massive beast, on the other hand… What was he supposed to take from this? That No’a was skilled at hunting? He already knew that. That he wanted to provide for him? Maybe… That was a nice thing to think about...

Wait, no, the giant dead bird needs to be dealt with first.

“Well, it’s certainly flattering, and I’m sure we could make good use of it… But you’re  _ sure _ it’s dead?” The Exarch asked.

The bard nodded with a grin. “Definitely! I didn’t poison it so we could use the meat, but it hasn’t moved since it fell down, and it’s been… 3 bells? So I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”

_ Rrrrrrrrr… _

“... Thoooough it  _ has _ just occurred to me that with all the excitement of the hunt, we forgot to double-check.”

As the Exarch and Lyna coordinated the soldiers into attack formation and worked to close the gate, No’a reached for his bow and ran to the nearest tree, watching carefully as the Supay struggled against the ropes that had it bound. It was still gravely injured, each push upward a struggle, but it eventually shrugged off the ropes and got back on its feet, looking around the new environment cautiously as it breathed heavily through its pain. Everyone went deathly still, watching the bird intensely - any injured animal could be considered dangerous, but a creature this big and powerful to the point that not even the Warrior of Darkness alone could beat it meant it could wreak destruction throughout Lakeland if scared or threatened.

“Careful…” Lyna muttered as she ever so slowly drew the war quoits from the hooks on her waist, not once looking away from the bird. The Exarch looked at the bird, then at No’a - or at least, where he last saw No’a, standing on a tree branch. Amongst the purple foliage, it was hard to see him-

_ Crack. Fssssh. _

With an arrow sailing narrowly past its head, the Supay snapped to the tree No’a had climbed. It cried out, the face on its torso looming as it puffed its chest and started approaching the tree.

“Godsdamned...” Lyna muttered under her breath before wordlessly signalling to the rest of the guard. Chucking her war quoits, she ran towards the bird’s back, the rest of her soldiers following as they launched an ambush. Swords swung and spears pierced the stunned bird until finally someone hit a sweet spot, the Supay giving one last pained cry as it fell to its knees, then to the floor.

As the soldiers rushed over to check that it was dead this time, Lyna walked over to the nearby tree.

“No’a Katri.”

The bard jumped down from the cracked tree branch, sheepishly grinning. “Ah, Lyna... Have I ever told you that you’re stunning in battle?”

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

“Y-yes ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!”

No’a stood to attention, glancing over at the Exarch with a look that screamed  _ help me _ . The Exarch simply shook his head with a playful smirk, hand on his hip as the bard got a verbal thrashing from the Vii woman that even left the soldiers in a stunned silence.

No’a was banned from bringing in any more large-scale “gifts”, and the Exarch was left with little more than some feathers after the creature was left to the wild.


	6. Nightmare - Exarch/WoL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Exarch called No’a once before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I’ll write something that’s not WoL/Exarch next time! Also blame Surfacage for this idea.

It was supposed to work this time.

“The better path leads you here, to me. I have need of your strength.”

You were mad at me. Of course you were. You had every right to be.

“Are you insane?! Whoever you are, send me back,  _ right now _ !”

You were still there, on the battlefield at Ghimlyt Dark. I managed to get through to you first time.

“You don’t understand! I need to fight, I have to kill the Ascian, they’re going to use Black Rose if I don’t stop-“

You stopped, frozen, your words dying in your throat with a sickly gargle and the light in your eyes vanishing. Blood spilt from your mouth as a wound started blossoming from your heart - dealt by the same person who left that enormous scar across your chest, no doubt.

“No… Gods, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen…!”

I called you at the wrong time. I couldn’t get you to go back to your body. I had to watch. The agony, the sorrow, the  _ rage _ , then... nothing. You dissipated.

“I… I-I’m sorry… Gods, I’m so sorry...”

I watched you die, and it was my fault. If I hadn’t called you, you would’ve lived. I was the reason you died. I was the reason the Calamity couldn’t be stopped.

I killed you.

—————

The Exarch awoke with a start, breathing heavily as he tried to ascertain his surroundings. It wasn’t the Ocular, but it was familiar - the Crystarium? Yes, definitely the Crystarium - he’d feel much more tired otherwise. His back was against a wall - not entirely comfortable, but it was too late for that now. What was he doing here…?

“Raha?”

He startled, turning to see No’a giving him a concerned look. “Are you ok, love? You dozed off while I was performing.”

Ah. Yes, that was it. They were behind the Pendants, spending some time together away from prying eyes. No’a had begun practicing his harp, and… G’raha had fallen asleep. A rare occurrence, but it happened nonetheless.

G’raha’s dream flashed before his eyes again and his breath stopped just for a second as he frantically checked over the other Miqo’te. No’a was ok. No blood in his mouth, no sword wound through his chest, the light still in his eyes. Though the chest scar made him wince, No’a was alive. He hadn’t killed him.

Not in this version of events, anyway.

“Ah… Yes, sorry. Just a bad dream, that’s all,” the Exarch replied, wiping tears away under the guise of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Are you sure?” the bard asked cautiously.

No’a was giving him a chance to talk about it, and a part of him wanted to leap at that chance. He wanted to talk about everything he’d gone through, not just for the two worlds but for  _ him _ , how he’d watched so much death, so many failures, all for his sake. How he’d do it all again just to make sure his beloved, precious inspiration was safe and well. How he never wanted to watch him die again, not after having done so by his own hand. How he’d sooner sacrifice himself a dozen times over before allowing that to happen.

A different part of him knew that was all a terrible idea to say, and he agreed.

“... Yes, I’m sure. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Another part, deep inside him, told him he was going mad after so many years of dedicating his life to save one man. He ignored it.


	7. Sleep - WoL & Scions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a rare moment of peace for the Ala Mhigan Resistance, the Scions make fun of No’a and his recently odd way of sleeping.

It was a quiet evening in Rhalgr’s Reach - an incredibly rare occurrence all things considered but nonetheless welcomed by the Resistance, who took it easy with light training or simply just whiling away the hours together. Thancred and Alphinaud were sat together discussing recent events in Ala Mhigo when Lyse jogged up to them, a wide grin on her face.

“Hey,” she whispered, “it’s happened again.”

Her cheerfulness spread to Alphinaud, who quickly got up and rushed over to the infirmary with Thancred reluctantly following. Alisaie was still sleeping off her injury from Fordola and hadn’t stirred for a while, but what the trio were looking for was the curled up blue-haired lump with his back dangerously hanging off the end of her bed.

“This only works because they’re both so small, you know,” Thancred muttered, shaking his head. “We should probably move him again, before he falls off or something.”

“Wait wait wait, I want to commit this to memory,” Lyse half-whispered giddily, carefully stepping around the bed to look at every angle. “Alphie, can’t you sketch this?”

Alphinaud shook his head. “I’m only good at portraits, I’m afraid… The rest of it is… difficult.”

“Well then, come over here! I found the perfect spot, you’ll want to see this,” Lyse said, waving her hand to where she was standing by the bedside cabinet. Thancred and Alphinaud carefully walked over to the small space, careful not to wake either of the sleeping Scions.

While Alisaie was sleeping like normal, her form looking especially small under the blankets, No’a had curled up tight at the foot of her bed. Despite his long hair covering his face, he had an obvious concerned expression, even as he slept seemingly peacefully. He had forgone the Kudzu tunic he’d obtained in Doma - probably for the sake of mobility - leaving only the bandages still wrapped around his chest and left shoulder that made each of them wince. They’d probably need changing and the antibiotic balm reapplied by now, Alphinaud remembered - Alisaie was supposed to be next to help him with it, but she was obviously in no fit state to do so. He was happy to take his sister’s shift, whenever No’a woke up - though she owed him a fruit tart for it, he decided.

“That can’t be comfortable in the slightest, especially with his wound from Zenos still healing,” Thancred said, barely above a whisper. “What on earth possesses him to sleep like that lately?”

“It’s for comfort, I think,” Alphinaud replied, arms crossed in thought. Lyse and Thancred glanced over at him, waiting for another of his handy explanations. “Keepers of the Moon are known to be incredibly family-oriented, and it’s not exactly a hidden fact that No’a thinks of us as his ‘found family’. Therefore, it’s not outlandish to assume that… whatever this is, is what he did when his actual family was similarly hurt or ill.”

Lyse made an affirming sound, kneeling next to No’a’s curled up form. “I can understand that - whenever Dad or Yda fell ill, I felt like I had to be there all the time, just in case.”

Alphinaud nodded. “This has happened before, as well… after the Bloody Banquet. He wouldn’t let myself or Tataru sleep alone for weeks - we ended up all sleeping in the same room just to keep him happy.”

Thancred shrugged. “Well, if he’s expecting all of us to sleep in a room together just to placate this habit of his, he’s sorely mistaken. I happen to like my privacy.”

“Yeah, I  _ bet _ you do, Pops.”

The trio startled as No’a mumbled, bright amber eyes opening as he smirked. He glanced over at Lyse next to him and gave her his usual stunning grin. “Mornin’, sunshine~”

Lyse narrowed her eyes at his flirty nickname for her and poked his forehead. “And exactly how long have you been awake?”

“Mm, jus’ a couple seconds,” the bard said dismissively as he sat up and stretched - then held his chest and winced at the ache of his still-healing sword wound. “Shit… Ah, what’s everyone doing here anyway?” He asked, forcing a smile.

It suddenly came to Lyse’s mind that telling No’a they were watching him sleep would sound incredibly… creepy. She nervously laughed as she stood up.  _ How to put it, how to put it… _

“Wellllll, you see, I came here to check on Alisaie, and-“

“Your behaviour around Alisaie lately is quite frankly strange, but Lyse finds it highly amusing, so we watch you sleep,” Thancred finished with a smirk not unlike the one No’a had woken up with. Lyse gave up thinking of a half-decent excuse and instead nodded shamelessly. No’a’s ears flicked as he tilted his head to the side, then lit up in realisation.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it’s a bit odd if you’re not from our tribe,” No’a explained with a shrug. “It can sound kind of ridiculous and I don’t know if other Keepers do this, but our family believes that by staying with someone who’s in a bad way, and sometimes by purring to them, our lunar blessing from Menphina surrounds them, keeps them safe, and helps to speed up the healing process.”

Alphinaud nodded, making a mental note to ask No’a more about his tribe at another time - it’s not often one is around a Keeper for so long, after all. “So  _ that _ explains Qhita when she came to visit you… And the noise I often heard by my door at night, back when we were staying at House Fortemps...”

An embarrassed flush spread across No’a’s face before he cleared his throat and nodded. “I, um, thought you were asleep when I did that, but yes! So you don’t have to worry about keeping together or anything - Thancred can keep his ‘privacy’.” He looked over at the rogue with a teasing grin, which was returned with a scoff and a jab at No’a’s shamelessness. The four left Alisaie to her rest and continued the conversation by the lakeside, below the giant statue of Rhalgr’s Reach. For a few bells, it was peaceful, and No’a didn’t have to worry about anything.

——————

Months later, Tataru quietly entered the Rising Stones’ infirmary with a warm cup of tea in hand. Averting her gaze from the numerous filled beds of her friends, she followed a low, rumbling noise to its source - a curled up Miqo’te in the middle of the room.

The receptionist frowned and put the cup of tea on a small side table next to No’a’s bed. She remembered having to resort to buying a whole new separate bed for him in the infirmary since he kept falling out of the ones he curled up onto on the daily and kept getting scolded by Krile as a result - although she saw the lighter side of it at the time, she couldn’t help but worry if letting the bard sleep in the same room as the Scions’ soulless bodies every spare chance he got was the right thing to do.

Regardless, Tataru tiptoed out of the room, glancing back only once when No’a’s purring stalled for a second. She had to admit, the low noise had a peculiarly calming effect on her - maybe if that was real, the rest of what No’a said about it being able to heal was real too?

She hoped so - she couldn’t bear to see this situation much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The Hz level that a cat purr falls into has been shown to aid in healing.


	8. Mooch - WoL & Various

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Keeper who never pays for his food catches the barkeep’s attention.

“So tell me, beautiful, how are the kids doing since last I saw you?”

“Oh, they’re doing wonderfully! My darling boy’s started to help out with the farm alongside his father; it’s such a lovely thing to see coming home from the market, you know?”

“I can only imagine, having such a sweet family unit like that! Your husband is very lucky if I do say so myself. Say, do we have any more of these fishcakes coming?”

The bartender rolled his eyes as he sorted the mugs under the bar, already making a note for two more fishcakes to send to the cooks at the back. He was used to this routine by now: this pretty boy Keeper Miqo’te would come in with someone on his arm every week, sweet-talk them into buying a meal and drinks, then spend the night away listening and complimenting them until he had his share and bade them an overdramatic sugar-coated farewell that left his companion sighing. Free food and drinks, every week, without the Miqo’te even promising more for it (which was a rare occurrence around here if the Miqo’te customers at night were anything to go by). Honestly, the bartender was impressed. He just wished he didn’t have to listen to the same syrupy spiel over and over again.

He glanced over at the pair in the corner. The brunette Elezen lady was older than what the Miqo’te usually brought in - to anyone else, they might look like they were having an affair.

Come to think of it, would it be classed as an affair? The barkeep looked over just as the Elezen lady laughed at the Miqo’te, who leaned back in his chair with a grin. Nah, neither seemed particularly interested in  _ that _ . It seemed more like a friendly get-together if anything.

The young Hyur man he brought in the next day, however, seemed  _ very _ interested. Very touchy-feely too from the looks of it, always keeping a hand on the Miqo’te’s arm while they talked about their favourite places to watch the sunset.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most gorgeous green eyes?” The Miqo’te said with a soft smile. “I’ve lived in the Shroud almost my whole life, but I never came across a shade of green quite as dazzling as yours.”

“O-oh, really? I never really thought about them as anything special, honestly…” The Hyur replied shyly, his face turning a similar red-pink to the tattoos on the Miqo’te’s face.

“Trust me, handsome, I can’t stop looking at them… And the rest of the package ain’t half-bad either~”

“No’a...! Please, you’re embarrassing me…”

“Well then, how about you shut me up with a drink, gorgeous?”

The bartender shook his head silently. Poor Green-eyed Guy was smitten, and the bartender couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he prepared a mug of ale and another of mead for the pair. The man would be lucky if he got a kiss from the Miqo’te - which, as it happens, he wasn’t lucky enough to get.

A week passed until the bartender saw him again. This time he was by himself - well, himself and a chocobo chick that  _ really _ needed a diet. Where did he even get it from?

The Miqo’te - No’a, wasn’t it? - surveyed the customers from his small table in the corner of the room with the eye of a skilled hunter before noticing a fair-skinned Roegadyn woman on the other side with a fresh plate of food and nodding to himself. He leant down and whispered something to the heavy hatchling, who chirped, bounced its way over to the woman and… started nibbling at her ankle.

The tall woman startled and looked down at the offending chick, her gaze instantly softening as it peeped at her and tilted its head. “Aw, what’re you doin’, ya little rascal? Beggin’ for food?”

“Pip! Menphina above, not again…”

The Miqo’te ran over with an exasperated sigh and picked up the chick effortlessly (not an easy thing when said chick looked like it weighed more than he did - how strong was this man?) before shooting a shy, apologetic look at the Roe woman. “I’m so sorry about that - my fault, I should’ve been more careful about what I say ‘round Pip here.”

“What d’you mean?” The woman said, scratching the top of the chick’s head affectionately. It trilled happily.

“Um, well, y’see…” No’a looked away with his ears folded against his head and a coy smile that, to anyone not used to his tricks, would seem like genuine embarrassment. “I saw you from across the bar and thought you looked like a snack, buuut I may have said it out loud and this greedy little bugger got the wrong idea.”

The Roe woman was silent, and for a split second the barkeep thought the cat’s luck had actually run out. But then she threw her head back and laughed loudly, thumping the table with her hand as she did so. “Gods, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week! Quite the charmer, aren’t ya, pretty boy?”

“I try,” No’a said, grinning. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest, love - and tell ya what, why don’t you go get somethin’ nice for the little one to eat? My treat.”

“Really? Wow, hot  _ and _ generous - I might have found a keeper!”

“Ain’t that you, though?”

They both laughed and No’a sat Pip on the table to be cooed over by the woman before walking over to the bar, leaning over with a satisfied smirk on his face and a cheerful flick of his tail. “Do you still happen to make those amazing meat and vegetable skewers, my good man?”

“Can the sweet talk, mate,” the barkeep muttered. “Does that ball of feathers even eat meat?”

“My wingman?”

The barkeep inwardly groaned at the wordplay.

“So far he’s eaten whatever I give him,” the Miqo’te replied with a shrug. “But just between you and me, he’s an exceptional actor - knows exactly how to fake not liking a food when I give the signal, and how to push it ever-so-sweetly to me instead.”

“He’s not the only actor ‘round here,” the barkeep said gruffly, putting No’a’s order through to the kitchen. “Surely there’s an easier way to get food than charming it out of my customers?”

The Miqo’te simply shrugged again. “Of course there is - I could always roast some meat over a spit and call it a day, but sharing food and time with someone is refreshingly different. I’m not doing it solely for the food, either; I’m always genuinely interested in what they have to say about themselves too.”

That did seem to match up with what the barkeep had seen many a time. No’a was always the one asking questions rather than talking about himself; even after a good few months of watching him, the barkeep realised he knew almost nothing about him.

“The flirting, though?” He asked.

No’a looked up at the barkeep with a mischievous grin. “I can’t let this pretty face go to waste now, can I? You should try it sometime, handsome - you’ve likely picked up a thing or two watching me.”

“I’m easily 20 years your elder, ya daft boy.”

“Hm… Never too old to learn something new?”

“Just go get your free food,” the barkeep muttered with a roll of his eyes. After No’a walked away and started chatting with the Roegadyn woman again the barkeep chuckled to himself, remembering how 20 years ago he probably annoyed the previous owner of the pub the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dress it up however you want, he’s still begging for food at the end of the day. I feel like if he wasn’t the WoL, this would be how he spent most of his evenings... but he’d still have his little wingman~


	9. Wind-up - WoL/Exarch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Exarch gets a remarkably familiar present left for him in the Ocular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew one of those #WindupWol things on Twitter and got inspired! This is just... really self-indulgent fluff honestly.
> 
> I’ve been struggling with writing for a couple weeks, but I like how this one turned out!

“Rahaaa~? I’ve got a present for you, sweetness!”

Red ears pricked up at the singsong voice and sudden flux of aether. The Exarch couldn’t help but smile like a fool as he put down the books he had been organising and hurried out of the Umbilicus, ready to greet his beloved Warrior of Darkness.

It had been a while - three weeks, give or take - since No’a had went back to the Source, and G’raha had started to get... impatient. The bard never stayed away for too long, but as the days grew in number G’raha often found himself pacing in front of the portal to the Source, waiting for his return. It was a touch embarrassing, pining over someone for such a short span of time apart like he was in his twenties all over again, but something about No’a just made that part of him, the old G’raha Tia, resurface every so often. Besides that, being able to greet No’a every time he returned was part of their routine - and gods if both of them didn’t need a nice, simple routine after everything they’d been through.

“Welcome back, my… Oh.”

There was no-one there. That was definitely No’a’s voice just a moment ago… Did he miss the sound of footsteps, of the Ocular’s doors opening? Where had he run off to? The Exarch’s ears fell, disappointed at the disappearance of his beloved, before a light thud made them perk up again. He looked down at the source of the noise in front of the portal - a gift box, magenta with white ribbon, had just fallen on its side.

Odd, seeing as there wasn’t any wind or other force around to knock it over.

The colours meant it was very obviously from No’a, and if it was left in here before he mysteriously vanished… Was that his present? Curious, he picked it up and lifted the lid.

“... Oh! Are you…?”

Large, familiar amber eyes stared up at him from inside the box, their owner waving with a tiny painted grin. Gently, G’raha lifted the small form out of the box, sat down on the steps in the Ocular and placed it on his lap. It started fussing over its appearance almost instantly, dusting down its long rolanberry-dyed coat and swishing its tail from side to side with a barely audible clockwork rhythm. G’raha chuckled - of course a wind-up doll of No’a would be particular about how it looked. He wondered who made it; probably that woman Tataru, seeing as according to No’a she had a shrewd sense of business and was always eager to gather more funds for the Scions. It would only make sense to make merchandise of their famous Warrior of Light.

The little automaton looked around its surroundings before finally focusing on the Exarch, staring at him intensely. It was cute for a little bit, and he found himself staring back, but after a time the unmoving body and owl-like eyes stopped being adorable and started becoming unsettling, especially with the fanged grin.

“Um… Hello?” The Exarch greeted, giving a small wave to the doll. It stared up at him some more, and he started wondering if he had broken it somehow - but then it lifted up its little hand and blew a kiss to him and he found himself stunned, before laughing again.

The tower must’ve reverberated the sound more than usual, as there seemed to be a bit more of an echo.

“Well now, aren’t you a flirty little thing? They made you remarkably lifelike,” he told it with a fond smile, picking it up to have a closer look. The resemblance to No’a was uncanny for something so small, right down to his Keeper markings, the gold details on his trousers, even a little painted scar across his chest. Seeing that mischievous grin as it posed confidently filled G’raha’s heart with warmth. It could never replace the real thing, but he could just feel that having the automaton around would help curb his impatience while the bard was away; even if all it seemed to do was look pretty and dote on the nearest person, it was a nice reminder of him.

“It’s a shame the real No’a isn’t here,” G’raha thought out loud, idly stroking behind its ear in the spot he knew No’a liked best. “I’ve missed him terribly and was hoping to spend time with him… but I suppose if he had to hurry off someplace, it can’t be helped, can it?”

The wind-up No’a simply looked up at him, blinking. The Exarch smiled, glancing behind him at the portal for just a second before continuing. “You’ve got a lot to live up to, you know. When I call him my inspiration, that title isn’t made lightly.” He held out a crystal finger for the mammet to follow. “The real No’a is flirtatious, certainly, but he’s also kind, strong-willed and incredibly hardworking, always putting people first even after everything he’s gone through… after everything I put him through…”

His words trailed off and he shook his head as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. “Ah, but I suppose a mammet like yourself doesn’t need to worry about such things, hm?”

The doll, completely oblivious to the conversation G’raha was having with him, blew another kiss at the Miqo’te and he chuckled again. “That’s really the only thing you do, isn’t it? I don’t know how to feel about that, seeing as there’s probably hundreds of you back on the Source… Though, knowing I have the real No’a to myself is definitely a comfort.”

G’raha watched the doll for a few moments more, looking around as if searching for a presence before it did something new, this time winking at him with a flick of its blue tail.

It was then that G’raha considered a silly thing. He’d never do such a thing around others, obviously, but he was  _ most definitely alone _ in the Ocular, which meant he could say and do what he liked without fear of being  _ watched. _

With an amused hum, he picked up the automaton and carefully kissed its cheek, laughing as it froze in surprise. “How very lifelike indeed,” he reaffirmed. “I would’ve kissed the real No’a first, but seeing as he’s not here, you’ll just have to do-“

Suddenly the sound of quick footsteps echoed in the Ocular and a warmth wrapped around G’raha from behind. Instead of being startled, he smirked, leaning back into the body sitting behind him. “Ah, had enough of hiding, No’a? Don’t tell me you were  _ jealous _ of your mammet?” He asked playfully before muttering a spell under his breath to lift the bard’s invisibility.

No’a scoffed. “Why would I be jealous? I know I can get just as much attention from you whenever I want, sweetness~” As if to emphasise his point he pulled G’raha into a tighter hug, bumping his forehead against the back of the Exarch’s red hair as he hummed happily.

_ He was almost certainly getting jealous, _ G’raha thought with a smile.

“How’d you know, anyway?” No’a asked, moving the conversation away almost effortlessly.

“I thought I told you that I can sense changes of aether in the Tower?” The Exarch replied. “It wasn’t hard to figure you out once I focused - I just thought to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“I thought you were above all that now, old man?” The bard teased. G’raha chuckled.

“Not when it comes to you, my beloved. How did you turn invisible?”

“A potion maker owed me a favour or two,” No’a mumbled offhandedly. “I thought it’d be fun to tease you a bit - the way your ears fell when you couldn’t see me at first was adorable, by the way, I should hide more often~”

G’raha felt his face flush as he cleared his throat. ”Well… it’s hard to not be disappointed when your beloved returns after so long before seemingly disappearing into thin air,” he muttered, hugging the wind-up No’a. “At least this one doesn’t endlessly tease me - nor does he beg me for free food.”

“Mm, true, but I doubt it’d be as good a lover as I am,” No’a whispered in his ear, pulling G’raha towards him further still until his back was flush against the bard’s chest. G’raha didn’t argue one way or the other, instead leaning back comfortably with a content hum that made No’a chuckle affectionately. “Thank you for the reassurance, sweetness. I’ve missed you too, by the way. You didn’t have to say all those things earlier.”

“I just thought you could do with a reminder,” the Exarch replied with a loving smile, tilting his head back to kiss the bard, which was returned warmly. “Welcome back, my love, and thank you for the present. Tea?”

“Tea. Bring the mammet too, Tataru wants me to gauge interest for it in the Crystarium - ooh, can we put it in your hood?”

“That’s hardly necessary…”

“I’m putting it in your hood, give it here-“

“ _ No’a… _ !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless self-promotion time! You can see what Wind-up No’a looks like here: https://twitter.com/sonicceleste/status/1203513595289464832


	10. Afraid of the Dark - WoL, Fray & OC

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the Shroud’s endless trees, masking the sounds of movement from the singular hunter amongst its branches. Keen magenta eyes glinted in the moonlight, scanning the forest floor for a suitable target.

… There. A stag patrolling its territory - not too young as to endanger the population, nor too old to be worth nothing on the markets. Perfect.

A drawn breath in sync with a drawn bow, like instinct. One dark blue ear flicked against the breeze. Carefully…

“Leave me  _ alone!! _ ”

The arrow just barely hit its mark, the stag falling with a cry to the floor. Not perfect, but it would do just fine - and it wasn’t Qhita’s focus right now anyway.

“... Hello?”

Nothing for a few moments. Then, not too far away, another shout. A pained yell.

It was familiar.

“That… Ah shit, what have ya gotten yourself into now…!”

Qhita reluctantly left her catch to the wild as she jumped from branch to branch towards the source of the noise, bow in hand and ready to strike-

“Vhano’a!! Get down!”

… But there was no-one else there. All that she could see in the clearing was the light blue hair and fur of her brother, unusually in a set of bulky armour as he crouched over some kind of animal carcass - it was too broken and bloodied for her to even be able to tell what it used to be. Even as a huntress, the sight made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She knew No’a better than anyone, in part due to having to ‘raise’ him into a normal person; he wouldn’t mess up a catch that badly, even if he was just letting off steam. He definitely would’ve heard her shout, if nothing else.

Something wasn’t right. She relaxed her bow, silently jumped down from the tree, leant against it and observed.

“Why can I still hear you?! I thought I accepted us! …… I  _ know _ my darkness, it’s you… It can’t be  _ that  _ deep…”

He was mumbling to himself, but Qhita’s keen hearing picked it up easily. It sounded like one side of a conversation… was he using a linkpearl?

No’a suddenly rubbed at his face aggressively - the gauntlets were too shiny to just be polished, and looking at the animal carcass… Qhita grimaced.

“ _ Justice?! _ Killing Temple Knights wasn’t  _ justice _ , for me or for anyone! And then you……… You said I could control our darkness, but I can’t! I can’t control you…”

This wasn’t making a lick of sense. He was talking to someone, certainly, but at the same time it was like he was talking to himself. And this talk about darkness… What had No’a been doing while he was hiding in Ishgard?

“I… I picked up the soul crystal because I needed to be stronger, to win the Dragonsong War……… Yes, we’ve made progress, but at what  _ cost _ ?”

Soul crystal… So he’d changed from being a bard. It explained the change in outfit, but he didn’t sound happy about it. What was this ‘cost’? No’a reached for the broken carcass and gently pulled something out of what was left of the chest - his hunting knife, Qhita quickly realised. There weren’t any other weapons on his person… Had he done all that with just the knife?

“Everything bad that’s been happening lately has been  _ your _ fault,  _ your _ influence. I snapped at Tataru, I made Alphinaud upset, even this-” he made a vague gesture to the dead animal, “I just wanted to relax, but then  _ you _ started talking again, and now…”

No’a fell silent again, tail swaying as if paying attention to something intently. Qhita still couldn’t figure out what.

“Of course I have a problem with you! When we slaughtered - when  _ you _ slaughtered those Temple Knights…”

_ Vhano’a, did you…? _

“I can’t trust you anymore, Fray! ……. No, that  _ is _ your name. You’re  _ not  _ trying to help us! You want me to be selfish at the cost of others! You’re turning me into something I don’t want to be! I’m the Weapon of Light, I need to……… N-no, no, I didn’t mean that, I meant Warrior, t-that just slipped out…… No, I’m not… Ugh, FINE!”

Qhita jumped. Resting birds flew away from their spots in the nearby trees. No’a stood up, hunched over and glaring at something in his hand.

“Fine, okay?! You’re right, you’re right! I’m just a weapon now, just meant to fight other people’s wars - but I’d rather be a weapon to help people instead of a person who pushes everyone away! I don’t  _ want _ you to try and help me anymore, just…”

He yelled again, frustrated and pained, before turning behind him and throwing whatever was in his hand as hard as he could...

Right next to Qhita’s head, getting stuck firmly in the tree she was leaning against.

No’a froze, amber eyes wide in panic. Every inch of him was telling him to move, to run, to hide, but he couldn’t - not when she’d likely seen the whole thing. Of  _ course _ she’d be around, the Katri tribe hunted all over the Shroud, why didn’t he go somewhere else-

“Vhano’a.”

He jumped at the firm tone. Slowly, carefully, Qhita walked over and placed her hands on her brother’s shoulders, just barely managing to hide her grimace at the sight and smell of the animal blood on his face from earlier. She could still see hints of the rolanberry red eyeshadow he always insisted on wearing, underneath the blood. It looked all kinds of wrong.

“You okay?” She asked quietly. It wasn’t a question that needed asking - even if she hadn’t watched him, the dull faraway look in his eyes was all she needed to know that he was  _ definitely _ not okay. But at the same time, that was why it  _ had _ to be asked - to see if he recognised that.

It took a moment, but No’a took a deep breath and shook his head. Qhita sighed in relief - not a madman yet. That was good.

“Wanna talk about it?”

No’a hesitated before he shook his head again. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

“I believed you when you told me about the shit they pulled at the banquet. Try me.”

No’a gave her an ugly, doubtful look. “My darkness somehow possessed the body of a Dark Knight called Fray, who killed Temple Knights then tried to kill me. I stopped him, but now he won’t shut up in my head because ‘you haven’t truly accepted our depths’ or whatever.”

“... Oh.”

That… yeah, if it was anyone but Qhita, No’a would’ve been locked up - especially in somewhere like Ishgard if local knowledge was to be believed. Luckily, Qhita knew her brother - there was truth all over his face. A truth he was terrified of, but truth nonetheless.

“Is there… anything I can do?” Qhita asked carefully. “I ain’t gonna admit I know how to deal with, uh, darkness, but I know you’ve got a lot going on, what with being at large from Ul’dah and staying at Ishgard as it is… Maybe I could do Mum’s trade quotas for a while? Keep ahold of somethin’? You technically employed me as a retainer, don’t forget. If ya need me to do something-“

“Take him.”

“Huh?”

No’a pointed to the tree he threw something at, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “The soul crystal. Just… take it, lock it up somewhere, I don’t care, so long as  _ he’s away from me. _ ”

_ That won’t do a thing about me and you know it. _

“I don’t give a damn, Fray.”

Qhita blinked. “... Was… Was that him that you were talking to?”

No’a’s eyes widened as he realised he’d spoken aloud before staring at the floor, shoulders hunched and arms folded tight against himself like he was trying to hide in shame. That was fair enough, Qhita supposed - how he’d been acting was like nothing she’d seen from him before, and she suspected it wasn’t entirely by choice. He was an adult who could make his own decisions, she knew that, but she was starting to worry about him and this whole Warrior of Light business. The Scions, or what was left of them according to No’a, seemed nice enough when she met them - a bubbly Lalafell and an Elezen kid she was sure would keep No’a in check - but the bard had an unfortunate habit of saying yes to everything asked of him, which only got worse if he was stressed out... and there was no hiding the bags under his eyes, even with the blood on his face…

“... How have things been in Ishgard?” Qhita asked gently.

“Busy, but I don’t mind,” No’a mumbled. “Keeps my mind off of… other things.”

Qhita remembered when he told her about the banquet and nodded solemnly. “And… when was the last time you rested?”

“Oh what, you think I’m hallucinating ‘cause I haven’t been sleeping?” No’a suddenly snapped defensively, avoiding her gaze - that didn’t answer her question, but at the same time it told her everything she needed to know.

“Vhano’a…” Qhita paused and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thought. She never was good at the whole heart-to-heart thing. “I believe you about Fray and your darkness - honestly at this point with all you’ve told me, you could spout bullshit about, I dunno, flying off to another world and I’d believe every word. I asked because I’m worried about you. Even Mum would be worried about you.”

No’a scoffed flippantly at the mention of their mother. Nevertheless, Qhita continued.

“Listen, I’m not gonna ask you to stop doing this Scion thing, ‘cause I know you’re a stubborn bastard who can’t stop helping people and on the whole, you’re doing good things. All I want you to do is promise me that you’ll take care of yourself a bit better, yeah? You need to come first.”

No’a thought for a moment. His first reaction was bitterness - he  _ didn’t  _ come first, that was the thing, he didn’t have  _ time _ to look after himself when there was a war that only  _ he _ could stop. And besides, there were people that needed worrying about more than a weapon like-

_ I was trying to take care of you. I know what we need to be better, to feel like ourselves again. But you don’t want to listen to me, do you? _

“Fuck off,” No’a muttered under his breath.

_ So crude… Know this, No’a. Until you truly accept the darkness, you’ll never know peace. A balance must be maintained- _

“If I say yes, will you take the soul crystal?” He asked with an irritated sigh. “He really needs to shut up.”

“Why not just break it?” Qhita replied. “If it’s causing you that much trouble…”

“No. I… I can’t do that to Fray. The original Fray, I mean.”

Qhita stared at her brother quizzically, but eventually shrugged and walked over to the tree, plucking out the embedded soul crystal and giving it a once over - noting what an incredibly pointy thing it was - before stuffing it in her pocket.

“So does anyone else know about Fray?” She asked as she walked back to No’a. He shook his head. “Okay. Is he still talking to you?”

No’a paused and focused.

_ I’ll still be here… _

“... He’s quiet.”

Qhita wasn’t sure what to make of that. She scanned No’a’s face, however, and saw a look of relief, so she decided to take it as a good sign. “What d’ya wanna do now?”

No’a hummed thoughtfully, tail swishing side to side as he thought, like nothing bad had happened. “I should get back to Ishgard, Alphie’s probably worried that I haven’t been back all day…”

“Really?” Qhita asked, surprised at No’a’s sudden turnaround. He looked at her quizzically and she panicked. “I-I mean, uh, wouldn’t you want to get all those guts off your face first? Normally ya wouldn’t be caught dead in such a state…”

No’a blinked, then smiled a little sheepishly. “Yeah, you’re right… I’d only worry them more looking like this. The stream’s just down the path, right?”

“Right. Let’s get you looking like you again, and then how about a drink? On me this time.”

To her further surprise, he shook his head. “I’m… trying to cut back. Thanks, though.”

He paused - a lie, but Qhita didn’t push it. He’d been through enough today already. “Alright, we’ll get you back to Ishgard then,” she offered, “but you have to take care of yourself from now on, yeah? Ask that bossy kid or something, I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to help you.”

“Ha... Sure.”

Qhita smiled and nodded, and they both made their way to the stream. Honestly, she didn’t expect No’a to improve his mood so quickly - normally he’d brood for at least a little longer before putting on those cheerful airs again. She could only hope that meant something good…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next time she saw him, he was unconscious in an infirmary at Rhalgr’s Reach, bandages blossoming red from a slash wound across his body that Alphinaud told her he’d gotten from an overconfident fight with a Garlean lord. When she asked the Elezen about the last time No’a took a break between battling, he couldn’t answer.


	11. Cruel - Emet-Selch & WoL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.3 spoilers ahead!

Looking at this  _ hero _ , I’ve arrived at the conclusion that Hydaelyn must have a cruel sense of humour.

Just like all the others, he’s a pathetic shadow of what his aether once was. He’s too small, even for his species, when he used to rival even my height. His academic ability leaves much to be desired compared to his more scholarly tagalongs, most likely to his savage forest upbringing. It’s also, according to one of his attempts to engage in conversation with me, the explanation for his hideous obsession for rolanberry - it’s as if he intended to forever resemble a clown by tattooing it on his face and insisting on wearing it constantly. And then there is his insufferable flirting towards anything that will listen when he’s not playing the role of world-saver...

This hero, this…  _ No’a Katri of Eorzea, _ makes a mockery of the original owner of the ancient aether that was used to bring him to existence.

He is  _ nothing _ like Azem. Yet… Paradoxically, he’s  _ too damned similar. _

“See something you like, old man?”

_ Ugh. _ “Don’t insult me.”

“Ouch. Not your type, then? That’s fine.” The uncouth hero shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re too Ascian for my tastes, anyway. And old. Might count as cradle robbing, really.”

I hoped my eye roll was enough of a signal to indicate that this conversation was over so I could find a comfortable spot to nap, yet still he continued.

“Hey, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask, while the others aren’t around.” He glanced around the Greatwood briefly before he spoke, as if he were doing something forbidden by conversing with me. To them, it probably seemed that way. “Do I… remind you of someone?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised at his guess - thankfully a sundered lifetime of acting meant I could easily hide the fact that he caught me off guard. The hero’s perception is irritatingly good, though his tell is remarkably easy to point out; a flick of an ear and a frown to signal that he knows something before anyone else in his little party recognises. He must be terrible at keeping secrets.

_ His perception was similar. Obviously better, however. He could tell if someone was troubled a malm away simply from a twitch of their mouth - an extraordinary feat considering the identical robes and masks of our society. And without an obvious tell for it, either. _

“I’m merely observing your actions,” I told the hero - a half-truth, admittedly, but there is truth nonetheless, and so it’s not something that broke our agreement. He, however, looked sceptical, brow furrowing in a way that turned his carefree expression into something better suited for a primal-slayer.

_ He looked the same as I told him of our plan for Zodiark. He had never reacted so fiercely before, in all the time that I had known him. At the time, I didn’t understand why he removed his mask at the crux of his argument - seeing his full face and desperate expression was hardly going to give him an advantage over the Convocation, I thought. _

“You look at me different from how you look at the others, though,” the hero said, rudely disrupting my thoughts. He spoke carefully, as if at any moment I could be sent into a spiralling rage at his words. Clearly he hadn’t quite grasped my personality yet. “I mean, I know I killed your… friends? Colleagues? What do you call-”

“If you’re concerned about me suddenly deciding to attack you, then you must have forgotten our special agreement,” I interrupted him, wanting to cease his distracted rambling as soon as possible. I didn’t have the willpower to humour him. “No wonder you stay silent during moments of diplomacy. Are all those big, complicated words and laws too much for your savage little brain?”

Rather than being insulted or even a touch upset by my words like a normal person, the hero gave me a wide, fanged grin. “Sometimes, yeah. But it’s not as if I need politics to kill Lightwardens or Ascians, do I?”

_ How many times did I see that same grin, carefree and mischievous, while I chastised him and Hythlodaeus both for their skirting of Convocation regulations? _

I didn’t grace the hero with an answer, and turned to leave the conversation for good.

“At least tell me why you stare at me so much?” He asked in that  _ annoyingly familiar _ tone. Begrudgingly, I glanced back at him.

“Your eyes,” I said.

He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy. “What about them?”

_ They’re too much like his. Identical. The same shade as his, and his crystal. _

_ Amber. _

_ Like warm lanterns along a dark street, guiding you home. _

_ But you’re not home. _

_ You will  _ never _ be home. _

“They’re too bright,” I told the broken shard, and left him to his insignificant musings.

Distractingly familiar amber eyes, but surrounded by hair as blue as Hydaelyn and alight with her “gift”.

She has a cruel sense of humour, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emphasising No’a’s amber eyes sure paid off, huh.


	12. A Demonic Disaster - G’raha/WoL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s All Saints Wake, and G’raha is running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you work on writing something for months, and sometimes you get an idea and have to write it stream-of-consciousness style until it exists
> 
> This is the latter. 5.3 spoilers I guess? Happy All Saints Wake!

It was dark.

It was dangerous.

All G’raha could do was keep running.

He ran as fast as he could through the Shroud’s dense forest, snaking this way and that, trying to get away from what was chasing him in the trees. His chest heaved, his legs burned, he hadn’t ran in this new, old body for ages, but all he knew was that he had to  _ keep running. _

Something was chasing him. Something quick and clever. He had to escape.

Yet despite everything, it looked to all be in vain as the chaser only seemed to get faster, the only sound of its presence being the rustling of leaves as it leapt from branch to branch until-

“Ah-!”

G’raha yelped and stopped dead in his tracks as a figure leapt from the trees and landed just a few fulms in front of him. Cloaked in shadow at first, the figure rose to reveal a handsome, well-dressed Keeper man… at first glance, anyway. The moonlight cast a pale glow against his skin, making him resemble the undead rumoured to stalk the mausoleums nearby. Two sets of horns adorned his head - the first a small pair curled up snugly against his head, while the second pair flared out behind him like hair caught in the wind. He was dressed in much too fine a set of clothes for one leaping about in trees - but then G’raha saw the glowing, voidsent-shaped clasp holding his cloak and immediately understood.

This man was no mere mortal. He was a demon, out on the hunt for victims to sup upon.

And the demon had decided on him.

“I haven’t had such an  _ exhilarating _ chase in ages,” the demon spoke finally, seeming all too pleased with himself as he flashed his large fangs at the Seeker in a taunting grin. “Most of my victims are terribly single-minded when they run, making them ever so boring. You have my thanks.”

“What business do you have with me, foul creature of the void?” G’raha demanded, ignoring the compliment and brandishing his staff in defiance of the demon’s fierce aura. The demon, however, simply chuckled at the gesture - a low laugh that sent a shiver up the Seeker’s spine - and stepped forward, and forward again, until there were mere ilms between them.

“Come now, a scowl hardly suits one with such a sweet-looking face~” the demon said with a fond smile, voice like silk, raising a clawed hand to gently run along the Seeker’s jawline while the other hand snuck in to take his staff and drop it to the floor.

G’raha let him.

“There we go~” The demon grinned again, fangs on full display. “Now then, now that I’ve caught you, sweetness, what am I to do with you…?”

Glowing amber eyes, like the depths of hellfire, looked him up and down thoughtfully, while the clawed hand at his jaw turned his chin from side to side to allow the demon a better look at his victim. G’raha’s breathing stuttered, feeling something terribly sinful at the demon’s hungry, half-lidded gaze. Had he been caught under some kind of spell? What a wicked, tempting creature…

“I… I-I suppose I’m at your mercy, now that you’ve caught me,” he murmured, trying hard to will away the growing warmth in his cheeks. There was no use trying to fight…

The demon paused for a moment, then hummed in thought, leaning in closer as he whispered. “True… You are all but mine, now. All I have to do is make my mark, and then you’ll be little more than my plaything…”

The thought made G’raha’s heart race, though he couldn’t be sure if it was fear or… something else. Having this demon in the guise of a handsome Keeper for a master was… well, there were worse ways to perish, he supposed.

Despite the obvious danger, G’raha made no attempt to move when the demon leant in, closer, towards his neck, fangs out and ready to-

“ _ Ow! _ Wicked white, No’a…”

No’a instantly stepped back, sheepishly grinning as G’raha rubbed at his scratched cheek. “Sorry, sweetness… You ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine…” G’raha was pouting, but nodded. “Those horns are deceptively sharp… Are they real?”

“Nah, I think they’re some kind of lightweight wood. Real horns are usually worn down and rounded at the ends through use - and if they  _ are _ real I don’t want to know  _ how _ the Gold Saucer gets them.” The Keeper picked up G’raha’s staff off the ground and handed it to him before carefully lifting and removing the circlet he was wearing with the horns attached, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you said you were going to put up more of a fight? I was looking forward to that bit… You were supposed to pin-“

“ _ Y-yes, _ well…” G’raha cleared his throat and looked away, blushing deeply. “It seems that the demon cast a bewitching charm on me, rendering my mind blank.”

Rather than be disappointed that their plans didn’t go exactly as he wanted, No’a grinned at the admission, adjusting the clasp on his cloak with satisfaction. “Ooh, the costume did it for you then? I’ll keep that in mind for the future~”

G’raha huffed in fond exasperation and stepped closer to the bard, leaning in for a brief kiss which No’a gladly reciprocated. “You know I love you dearly, No’a…”

“But~?” No’a tilted his head to the side with a knowing smile.

“But you have some very strange ideas sometimes.” The Seeker cast a glance up at the sky, towards the moon looming large beyond the trees. “I understand it’s All Saints Wake and you wanted to do something special for my first holiday since returning to the Source, but… was it really a good idea to do this in the Shroud, never mind out in the open where someone could find us?”

“That’s all part of the  _ atmosphere, _ sweetness! The  _ mise-en-scene! _ ” No’a gestured dramatically with his arms outwards, his rolanberry-dyed cloak flowing in the slight autumn breeze. “A lone adventurer lost deep in the forest, fearing for his life as he’s chased by a mysterious figure in the shadows who seems to hunger for more than just his blood… You can’t get that sense of  _ fear _ anywhere but in the real environment!”

G’raha gave him a blank look. “Were you trying to get me in the mood, or terrify me?”

“Mmmmaybe a bit of both?” No’a grinned sheepishly again, ears falling in embarrassment at G’raha’s continued stare. “Alright, I admit, this was… not the best idea I’ve had.”

“To put it lightly, yes.” G’raha nonetheless took No’a’s free hand and squeezed it tightly, giving him a soft smile. “Why don’t we call this off and head back to the Lavender Beds? I could do with a cup of tea after being out in the cold for so long.”

“You know what, that sounds perfect,” No’a agreed, brushing his tail against G’raha’s affectionately before they started walking together. “I can get these false nails off too… They’re insanely long and a nightmare for practicality…”

“Ah, actually…”

No’a glanced over at G’raha, who paused in his walking to give the bard a smirk.

“... Could you keep those for tonight?”

No’a blushed deeply and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No’a’s demon costume is actually the costume I’ve had him in for the past few days in game! https://twitter.com/sonicceleste/status/1322318219877777408?s=21


	13. The Trouble with Names Part 2 - G’raha Tia & Biggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of strangers around the campfire are sharing what they know about the Warrior of Light from ages past... but there’s a singular, major error in their information that makes G’raha’s heart break each time he hears it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the name similarities saaaaad

The trouble with names is that from inexperienced tongues, they can sound vastly different and potentially cause all kinds of embarrassment. G’raha had learnt this a long time ago, back when he joined the Crystal Tower expedition.

What he was learning now was that over time, those original pronunciations could also become lost to history.

It was a very painful lesson.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t something anyone else had noticed - but then again, they wouldn’t, would they? Though he lived on in spirit, the bearer of the name was long gone along with any who knew him closely. It was such a tiny, insignificant detail besides…

… And yet…

“I knew this lalafell girl, said her parents or grandparents or what have ye watched one of the Warrior of Light’s performances. They asked ‘im to play at their wedding, begged really, but he turned it down ‘cause he was too busy.”

One of G’raha’s ears flicked in the direction of the small group huddled around the campfire nearby. A new collective of fugitives, looking for somewhere peaceful among the violence of the ruined world. He kept his eyes squarely on his book, adjusting the lamp on the table to better read the Allagan science within. A token effort, really - he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus when discussion turned to the Warrior of Light.

“She said that on the day of the weddin’, though, they heard a beautiful song from the trees ‘round the Sanctum as they left - her mum, or nan, whichever, used to swear she saw the Warrior of Light bow to her before he took off into the Shroud with nary a word. Apparently the next day was the attack on Baelsar’s Wall…”

“My word… To think he’d be so kind as to grant a request he turned down, even when he was facing battle so soon…”

At the table, G’raha hummed to himself in thought.  _ Baelsar’s Wall… so after the Dragonsong War, but just before the Scions entered Ala Mhigo, if our timeline’s correct so far.  _ He idly tapped a finger against the side of the book rhythmically, next to a small diagram of a teleporter.  _ It‘s certainly a plausible story, with the wall being next to the Black Shroud. I wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck away during preparations… _

“Hm… It’s odd, isn’t it? That such a powerful warrior was known for performing beautiful music on top of protecting Eorzea.”

“S’even odder when you remember that apparently, he was a Keeper of the Moon too. Ye  _ never _ see Keeper men around, yet there ‘e was out in the open, gleefully drawin’ in crowds in every city state!”

G’raha couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips as he idly turned a page forward, and then back again in a vague attempt to not look like he was eavesdropping.  _ Odd was… certainly an accurate way to describe him back then. _

“Wait, that’s the first I’ve heard of this. He was a Keeper? His name doesn’t sound very Miqo’te-ish, though…”

“Well, maybe it was an alias? No-one knows what ‘is childhood was like - could be he picked Noah himself.”

G’raha involuntarily winced, as if the name caused him physical harm, and in his haste accidentally ripped the corner of the page he’d been flipping back and forth.

“... It’s not…”

He whispered too quietly for the group by the campfire to hear but trailed off regardless, desperately trying to smooth down the ripped corner instead. The Warrior of Light’s name wasn’t Noah, it was No’a; the last syllable of his name was meant to sound more like  _ ah _ instead of  _ uh _ in keeping with, well, Keeper naming conventions. Too many people had trouble pronouncing Miqo’te names - a common occurrence, but nonetheless frustrating…

Yet… He couldn’t blame them. With the majority of society turning to ‘survival of the fittest’, they only had word of mouth to go on most of the time instead of writing and record keeping. People were regaining the same level of civility as before now, after some few generations, but nonetheless the damage had been done; the proper spelling and therefore pronunciation of the Warrior of Light’s name had been lost to time.

G’raha flicked a couple pages forward to forget about the ripped corner, but his eyes glossed over the words as a sense of shame quickly overtook him.

It shouldn’t have bothered him so much, really. No’a himself had never once complained when those unaccustomed to Miqo’te pronunciations called him Noah - in fact their first encounter was memorably coloured by the misunderstanding that their expedition group was to be named after the bard. Besides that, the important thing was that the Warrior of Light was remembered still, no matter what his name may be to the people.

G’raha knew all this, but…

Every time someone said his name, in that  _ incorrect _ way…

All that came to his mind was that expedition. His colleagues that helped him discover his purpose. His dear friends.

And though he tried to hide it, hearing the name broke his heart a little more each and every time.

“Noah’s more Hyur-soundin’, don’t ya think?”

He remembered the infectious enthusiasm from Biggs and Wedge when they were allowed to join the group, their comedic chatter filling the air as they all scavenged through the ruins of the barriers.

One had made a legacy at the dying wish of the other.

“I’ve known a few Noahs in my time, and…”

He remembered Cid and Rammbroes discussing research by the engineer’s workstation on an idle day, only to both burst out laughing when G’raha tried - and failed - to make one of his suave entrances after stumbling over a crate.

Cid had devoted his life to finding a way to reverse the Calamity, alongside the villain-turned-ally Nero. Rammbroes… Despite fervent searching, G’raha couldn’t find a single word about what happened to Rammbroes.

“Well, wherever it came from, I think Noah sounds  _ heroic!” _

Heroic. Strong. Perhaps too carefree at times, but full of heart and courage, determined to protect and save. G’raha would never, ever forget the way No’a fought with both power and grace, as befitted a legendary bard.

(And he would never forget that strange, wonderful hunting trip either, though that was strictly between G’raha and… and…)

… His aether had been cruelly torn away at the hands of Black Rose, leaving him unable to save his friends or the land he’d risked everything to protect. A hero struck down at his prime.

G’raha shut his book with a bit more force than he meant to and stood, ignoring the confused stares from those at the campfire as he walked as quickly as he could back to his tent while trying to maintain some of his faltering composure. It shouldn’t have upset him so much, the rational part of his mind told him as tears pricked at his eyes. These people were long dead. He knew they were going to be when he woke up. He had  _ accepted  _ this when he shut the doors and bade them all goodnight.

_ But they weren’t supposed to be dead like  _ this _ , _ G’raha argued to himself.  _ They were supposed to live long, joyous lives befitting of their potentials, leaving the world better than when they joined it! It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did! _

Stepping into his solitary tent G’raha placed his book down on his desk with a heavy  _ thud _ before wiping at his eyes with his cloak sleeve and taking a deep, shaky breath. His emotions were getting the better of him - hardly a way for the oldest Miqo’te in Eorzea to behave, and especially for the last Student of Baldesion.

… He made a mental note to visit Krile’s grave soon. Her nameday was around this season.

“G’raha? May I come in?”

_ Ah, Biggs - the third, not the... _

G’raha smiled to himself regardless. Just like his ancestor, the Roegadyn was both a stalwart colleague and a trustworthy friend. His presence had been a great help when the newly awakened G’raha first learnt of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, and ever since then Biggs was always there for reassurance when the Seeker found himself falling into darker emotions, having an uncanny ability to sense if something was amiss. Was such kindness and perception born from the effects of the Calamity, or was it simply part of Biggs’ character? G’raha hoped it was the latter.

“Of course. Enter, my friend,” G’raha called out, an unexpected wobbliness in his voice when he finally spoke. Biggs ducked inside with no small amount of concern on his face, even with his antique spectacles over his eyes.

“Is aught amiss, G’raha?” He asked calmly.

The Seeker, still with an ingrained instinct to downplay his hurt after all this time, smiled up at him and shook his head. “I appreciate the concern, Biggs… but it’s nothing to worry yourself with.”

“I’m not having that, now,” Biggs sighed, his voice a bit sterner. “You looked upset when you passed by. Didn’t even respond when I called out to you.”

“Ah. Um…” Caught instantly, of course. G’raha fidgeted with his sleeve and looked away. “My apologies, I didn’t mean… I suppose I can’t hide it, then. T-though it's nothing serious, I assure you,” he reassured quickly, hands up in a placating gesture before Biggs could respond. “The new group of survivors by the campfire, they were discussing rumours surrounding the Warrior of Light, but some of their information was… erroneous.” He gestured to the book on his desk. “It was… distracting, so I left for somewhere more quiet.”

Biggs nodded along politely, though he still looked somewhat concerned. “If what they were saying was wrong, why not correct them, then?” He suggested. “You’re the only one left who actually met him, after all. You know him better than anyone else alive right now.”

Ah, yes, the rational argument rearing its head once again. For someone so scholarly, G’raha had to laugh at himself for being so driven by emotion. “You make a fair point,” he admitted weakly, shrugging. “However, the error in question wasn’t something he would have been concerned about - regardless of my feelings, I didn’t feel it was my place to correct them if he wouldn’t.”

“Well, if that’s what you think is best…” Biggs half-smiled and shook his head. “It does sound strange though, if you don’t mind me saying. No’a must’ve been carefree to a fault if he didn’t mind misinformation!”

He laughed to himself, unaware of G’raha’s ruby eyes widening in surprise and gasp of breath.

For a moment - a brief, heart-stopping moment - G’raha was back in St Coinach’s Find, the rest of the newly-named NOAH letting out a collective groan while a blue-haired bard struggled to keep from erupting into laughter.

“You… You said it correctly,” he said without thinking. The Roegadyn gave him a confused look, so he continued at a rambling pace. “His, uh, name, to be more precise. No’a - with the  _ ah _ sound - instead of Noah - with the  _ uh _ sound. It’s a subtle difference, but not many non-Miqo’te take note of it. There was a discussion, actually, about whether some Allagan names were actually misspelled early Miqo’te names… Though I, um, I suppose that’s not really relevant, is it?” He smiled somewhat guiltily, his ears flat against his head. “My apologies. I was just surprised you knew the true pronunciation of No’a’s name… No-one else seems to anymore.”

Though not as confused, Biggs still gave him an odd look, scratching at the back of his head. “Is that so? Well, I’ve always pronounced it like that.”

“... Oh. Really?”

G’raha briefly wondered how he’d never noticed before, before the logical part of his mind offered up a simple answer - the only time he’d heard Biggs say the name was when he told the Seeker of the Calamity. Grief blinds a man to the finer details.

“Yup,” Biggs replied. “S’how my dad said it, and how his dad did. We’re sticklers for detail, our lot - wouldn’t be engineers otherwise!” He chuckled to himself again, and G’raha smiled politely, but then as Biggs calmed down something seemed to click in his mind, and he looked down at the Seeker with a soft, sympathetic smile. “Ah, of course… That’s why.”

Although he already knew what the next topic of conversation was going to be, G’raha nonetheless watched patiently as Biggs pulled a stool from the corner of the tent and brought it over to where he still stood, taking a seat with a gentleness betraying his large frame.

“Dad told me about Granddad’s expedition when I was a boy,” Biggs told him. “At first I thought it a bit too fantastical, what with eternal emperors and worlds of darkness, but as time went on that story gave me an overarching goal to work towards; that we could make the better future that the boisterous young historian with the Royal Eyes was expecting when he awoke.”

“... Boisterous?” G’raha repeated, scrunching up his nose and flicking his tail as his mood turned from melancholy to mildly offended. “That’s what he called me?”

“Eccentric, too.”

“Hmph.” G’raha pouted, sitting on the rickety chair at his desk with an exaggerated cross of his legs. “I would’ve preferred ‘bold’ or ‘dashing’...”

“Such descriptors were often reserved for No’a, I’m afraid,” Biggs replied, chuckling at G’raha’s sulking. “Though that reminds me, the group was called NOAH, wasn't it? Was it an acronym?”

“Indeed; short for Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical, though it was also the name of an Allagan archmagus as well,” G’raha said matter-of-factly with a nod, making no effort to stop the amusement creeping up on his face. He knew Biggs was trying to drag him out of his sadness, albeit in a strange method, but it was nonetheless effective. The Roegadyn laughed again.

“I wonder who came up with that, eh?” He shook his head in fond exasperation, though it quickly faded. “Noah and No’a...” Biggs smiled at the Seeker. “It’s no wonder you were upset earlier then; both names must still hold a lot of weight with you, G’raha.”

The Seeker looked up at the Roegadyn - saw how similar yet different he was to the Biggs he had known - and felt a bittersweet ache in his heart at the reminder of the passing of time.

“... I had thought, at the time,” G’raha recalled as he sat forward in his chair, the look on his face wistful as he stared off to some middle distance, “that the Warrior of Light sharing a similar name to one of my favourite Allagan figures was perhaps a sign, something from the Twelve that told me I was heading towards the answers I had desired for my whole life by joining this expedition.”

Biggs nodded along, politely silent but leaning forward as well, transfixed on G’raha recounting his memories.

“Looking back now I know it was mere coincidence.” G’raha shrugged. “No’a was a nickname, among other things. But being the desperate fool I was, I clung to both regardless, believing them to be an integral part of my destiny. The clever collective NOAH, who would traverse through the tower and discover the long-lost secrets of Allag… and the Warrior of Light No’a, whose inspiring strength allowed those secrets to be found before swiftly saving Eorzea from those secrets in turn.”

G’raha sighed and glanced at the Roegadyn, giving him a small, sad smile. “To put a long, sentimental answer short, yes. Despite only one being remembered to this day, both are still very dear to me, as you guessed - and knowing you, Biggs, you’ve likely figured out that I didn’t come here because I was getting distracted. Rather, when the group by the campfire were discussing the Warrior of Light… I…”

“You were reminded of your friends,” Biggs quietly finished. “I understand.”

The Seeker nodded, his gaze falling to the floor as his ears fell flat against his head in a mix of sadness and embarrassment. He hadn’t intended to confide in Biggs like this when he first walked in; he expected to give him an explanation for his behaviour at most, but… he supposed it was helping, having someone to talk to, even if he perhaps didn’t entirely understand. “If I may be entirely honest, I knew it would be difficult to process their… their deaths…”

His voice broke at the last word.

“... but I didn’t imagine it to be quite like this.”

_ To be the last survivor of a halcyon era. _

He cleared his throat and let the tent fall silent, staring at the dirt. From just outside his vision G’raha saw Biggs tilt his head and smile in such a way that he knew he was giving him a knowing, sympathetic look behind those old shaded spectacles. Of course… No doubt Biggs had seen his own share of loss in this ruined world. Life, love and death was a constant no matter the state of the world - if there was nothing else, they at least had those constants to bond over. There was something oddly comforting in that.

_ But back to the matter at hand. _

“Forgive me, I rambled again...” G’raha fidgeted at his cloak sleeve once more, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. “Regardless of my reasoning, I realise it was unbecoming of me to act the way I did by the campfire, and for that I must-“

“I’ll stop ya right there. There’s no need to apologise, G’raha, for that or for talking through your grief,” Biggs interrupted once again, rising from his seat to walk over and put a large, steady hand on the Seeker’s shoulder. “Honestly with all you’ve been through, you could’ve yelled and lectured at the lot by the campfire and I’d understand!”

G’raha looked up at him, eyes wide. “I-I couldn’t do that! It’s not their fault they don’t know about NOAH…”

(A memory of lecturing Cid about the difference between Phlegethon and Acheron briefly flashed through G’raha’s mind and he inwardly winced.)

“Which is precisely why, as the last member of NOAH and the last person alive who knew No’a, I think  _ you _ should tell them the truth,” Biggs replied with a smirk, bringing the conversation back to his earlier, still very logical suggestion. “The dead deserve to be respected, and getting their names right is about as basic as you can get. No’a may not have minded, but I think the world deserves to know the Warrior of Light’s proper name at least - and I think they deserve to know about NOAH, too. Don’t you agree?”

G’raha instinctively opened his mouth to argue  _ something, _ but found nothing came to mind. What  _ would  _ he argue, anyway? That his hero’s carefree attitude in life meant it was perfectly fine to disrespect him in death by not calling him by his true name? That people didn’t need to know about the collective that sent him off to his destiny - that in turn allowed the chance for this ruined world to be saved? G’raha frowned in thought. When he put aside his grief for the moment, it suddenly seemed utterly ridiculous that he hadn’t corrected them sooner. A newfound sense of purpose and pride began to swell within his heart. After all…

“Well, what kind of _eccentric_ _historian_ would I be if I let misinformation of Eorzea’s saviours spread about?” G’raha said, rising from his chair with a smug smirk and gesturing to himself proudly. “Very well, as the last member of NOAH, I will share the absolute truth. Maybe I’ll even tell a few of my own tales about the Warrior of Light to make them envious~”

“Now that’s the G’raha Granddad told us about!” Biggs grinned, already moving to the tent’s entrance. “Well come on then! You think anyone’s gonna miss a chance to hear more about the Warrior of Light from someone who worked alongside him? I can only imagine the details you have in that head of yours - and we’ll want  _ every  _ detail!”

G’raha chuckled at Biggs’ enthusiasm - that was definitely a family trait. “Oh, there are  _ many _ details about No’a I could share - though perhaps there are some I shouldn’t…”

“Well, it’s not like he’s going to know, is he? I want to know the good, the bad, the ugly, all of it!”

“Ah, well, if you insist. Perhaps I’ll start with the time he broke Cid’s pet project in a drunken dance…”

“He  _ what?! _ You’re joshing me.”

It was G’raha’s turn to grin, putting a finger to his lips before walking out of the tent with a smug flick of his tail, Biggs following close behind as they approached the campfire. G’raha’s mind was busy already, thinking of what memories to share from those short few moons he spent on the expedition, but first things first - the whole trouble with the names needed to be resolved.


	14. Gossip Rag - WoL/G’raha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day turns awkward for everyone when No’a’s well-meaning but brusque sister comes across a potentially compromising tabloid about the Warrior of Light. G’raha saves the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how you find trash magazines loudly talking about every dark, petty detail they can scrounge up about a celebrity? Yeah this is that.

“... Hm.”

_ “Well?” _

“Uh... I guess in hindsight, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner?” No’a said, running a hand through his sky blue hair with an uncertain grin, doing all he could to avoid looking at his sister on the opposite side of the table.

“ _ That’s  _ all you have to say about it?” Qhita snapped, hand slammed down against the table. “I  _ told  _ you all your godsdamned bar hopping was gonna bite you in the arse someday!”

They, and the small crowd of Scions that had gathered around them in the Rising Stones, turned to look at the offending piece of media on the table - a gaudy-looking tabloid magazine which proudly stated to have  _ “a tell-all article of the Warrior of Light’s most intimate secrets, as told by his ex-lovers!” _ in bright lettering taking up most of the front page.

When Qhita had stormed into the Rising Stones and interrupted No’a and Y’shtola’s conversation, all the air of a woman on a mission, the bard had assumed that perhaps something terrible had befallen his estranged tribe, or maybe that he’d forgotten to ensure Qhita was paid for her retainer duties in between his various trips to and from the First.

Suffice it to say, the atmosphere turned extremely awkward when Qhita threw down the tabloid and glared at him, as if demanding an explanation.

“It’s certainly an eye-catching headline,” Thancred commented with no small amount of smugness in his voice as he approached the bard, “but I can understand her concern, considering both your realm-wide status and your… various nightly escapades back in the day.”

“Like you can talk, Pops,” No’a interrupted with a smirk, to which Thancred rolled his eyes in response.

Y’shtola carefully sipped her tea and reached for one of the biscuits Tataru had laid out earlier. “I would hate to make things even more uncomfortable than they already are,” she said, her amused tone completely contradicting her statement, “but I fear I need some more clarification on what exactly we’re all so offended about.”

“Ah, of course.” Urianger - who had approached No’a and Y’shtola before Qhita arrived - spoke up before anyone else, and No’a honestly didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. Thankfully at least, if the Elezen held any kind of judgement or secondhand embarrassment, he didn’t show it, speaking plainly to the mage. “No’a’s sister seems to have found a sensationalist newspaper that doth claim to have spoken to possess all of our comrade's most… scandalous secrets. Though, I must admit I know not why she saw fit to bring it to everyone’s attention.”

“Oi, you lot were the ones to gather ‘round!” Qhita argued loudly, gesturing to the crowd around them. They nervously stepped back. “It ain’t my fault you’re nosy!”

“A good point, but to be fair you  _ did _ storm in and make yourself known quite loudly,” Thancred pointed out before stepping towards her and offering his hand. “Thancred, by the way. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Qhita glanced at him, then his hand, then shook it firmly. “Qhita. Nice to meet ya - Vhano’a’s told me about you, actually. Surprised you didn’t end up front and centre on a paper first with how many women you’ve tumbled an’ all.”

No’a bit down the smug grin tugging at his lips at Thancred’s shocked expression and instead turned his gaze back to the tabloid. “Well, I appreciate the concern, Qhita, but… what are you expecting me to do? How did you even get this?” He finally picked up the magazine and glanced at the back cover, his ears flicking up happily. “Ooh, a dinner voucher…”

It was Qhita’s turn to avoid eye contact with her sibling, similarly running a hand through her choppy dark blue hair. “I… might’ve stolen it from a newspaper stand,” she mumbled under her breath, before pointing an irritated finger at her brother. “I wasn’t gonna pay for that shit! And that ain’t the point anyway! My point is your reputation as the Warrior of bloody Light!”

“Reputation?” No’a tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “Come on, sis, I’m not going to get kicked off the battlefield just because a gossip rag had a slow news day.”

“That ain’t what I mean! It’s…” Qhita groaned and put a hand on her hip, sighing before reluctantly continuing. “D’ya know how many gossipmongers I’ve had to ‘ear...  _ fawnin’ _ over you when I visit Gridania ever since you started all this Scion stuff?  _ Everyone  _ knows about you - everyone’ll look at this rubbish, read it, an’ think they know… Y’know! And I don’t wanna hear it every time I go to the market! Can’t ya use your fancy Scion connections to get it off the shelves or somethin’?”

No’a hummed, turning over the magazine in his hands. “I guess I  _ could _ , no doubt Tataru has her ways… but it’s just a gossipy tabloid. Everyone knows this stuff is fake; I’m not sure it’s worth all the effort.” He shrugged casually.

Qhita mumbled something under her breath and shook her head. “For the love of Menphina, Vhano’a,  _ think  _ for a second-!”

“I’m back~! Oh, it’s…!”

All eyes in the room, including the small crowd that were still watching, fell on the red-haired Seeker closing the door to the Rising Stones with one hand while holding a bag of groceries in the other, his gaze focused on the two Keeper siblings with a mix of surprise and confusion. Qhita pointed dramatically at him from across the room as No’a rolled his eyes. “You! G’raha Tia! Talk some sense into your damn boyfriend!”

“A-ah, um… Alright? Just a moment, please.” G’raha replied somewhat shyly, his gaze gradually drifting to the floor to avoid the crowd’s staring as he walked across the room to the bar and put down the grocery bag full of vegetables.

“There we are…” he mumbled to himself before spinning on his heels to face the Katri siblings, avoiding the mischievous and even pitying looks from the rest of the Scions. “Now then, Qhita - a pleasure to meet you by the way - what seems to be the problem?”

“Qhita’s overreacting over a tabloid article about me,” No’a said first, shrugging and giving G’raha a charming ‘what can you do?’ kind of smile that made the Seeker’s heart flutter.

“Oh, is that all?” G’raha said, returning the smile warmly.

“Menphina above, that’s the look of a lovestruck fool if I’ve ever seen one… And overreacting?” Qhita stared at her brother, hands on her hips. “Have you  _ seen _ what’s on there? Don’t make it seem like I’m the weird one ‘ere!” She turned to G’raha and pointed to the magazine in No’a’s hands with a desperate look. “Look, G’raha, you seem sensible, an’ he’s bein’ stubborn. Read that, and tell Vhano’a he needs to stop it gettin’ sold!”

G’raha glanced at the tabloid, then at No’a, who wordlessly handed it to him with a shrug. He straightened it out and started to read the cover.

“Alright, let’s see… Oh? ‘A tell-all article about the Warrior of Light’s…’” Suddenly his face turned red as his eyes widened, ears rising high in surprise. “O-oh my. I, um… I see.”

“So, you see the predicament we’re in,” Thancred butted in, leaning against one of the chairs for the table they were all crowded around. “Or, rather, the predicament  _ they’re  _ in. She’s trying to save his reputation, while he couldn’t care less about the gossip.” He gestured to the bickering siblings and sighed… before smirking. “I have to say, though, it’s a refreshing change of pace to have No’a be the subject of scandal. He’s had it too good for too long, if you ask me.”

Y’shtola giggled into her hand.

“That Alphinaud decided to supervise Alisaie’s training is no small miracle from the Twelve…” Urianger mumbled to himself before shaking his head. “I shall be taking my leave,” he declared before walking into Dawn’s Respite. No-one could blame him for doing so.

Meanwhile, Qhita punched No’a’s shoulder and jerked a thumb at G’raha. “If ya ain’t gonna think of yourself, think of your damn boyfriend, dumbass! Ya say ya always flaunt ‘im around to everyone; people are gonna ask him  _ questions _ after they read whatever’s in there!”

“It’s all prob’ly lies, sis, I told ya,” No’a argued, rubbing his arm with a grimace. “We’re both made of tough stuff either way, a few sexy questions won’t bother us.” He paused before grinning mischievously. “Besides, any publicity’s good publicity, right? Maybe I’ll get more free stuff if…”

Qhita looked like she was one more clever remark away from snapping, her tail flicking this way and that in irritation. “It ain’t ‘good’ when I have to ‘ear thirsty housewives gigglin’ and speculatin’ ‘bout your…!”

G’raha glanced up from his reading of the cover. “Hold on.  _ Probably _ lies? So… excluding Qhita for obvious reasons, none of you have actually read this article yet?”

An uncomfortable silence from everyone followed, giving him his answer. With a smirk adorning her face Y’shtola stirred some more sugar into her tea, the teaspoon clinking loudly amidst the unbearable silence, before she picked up the cup and spoke.

“Well, there are only two people in this room at the moment who are properly, shall we say… Qualified, to assess its contents,” she said coyly, looking at G’raha with amusement as if she could tell his face was slowly turning bright red. “And, unfortunately, one of them is a stubbornly shameless fool.”

“Oi!” No’a pouted at the sorceress with a hand on his hip. “I just think it ain’t worth gettin’ worked up over. That don't make me a fool, Shtola.”

“You admit to being shameless, then?” Thancred noted with a grin.

“Everyone knows that,” No’a replied without hesitation. The crowd of Scions exchanged looks of agreement.

“Fair,” Thancred admitted with a carefree shrug. “Your accent slipped, by the way.”

“Blame ‘er.” No’a nudged Qhita playfully, but the woman was highly unamused, giving him a glare that made him recoil and hold his hands up in surrender with a nervous grin.

G’raha looked at the magazine again, its gaudy bright text and symbols taunting him. He was no stranger to No’a’s colourful past, and he held no jealousy or grudge that other people had known him as he now did - that wasn’t the issue. The issue laid with the fact that he had apparently been designated as the final judge on the situation, and to properly make a decision that No’a couldn’t argue against meant he had to gain a firm grasp on what exactly this magazine had written.

Which meant that  _ every single Scion currently in the room _ was watching and waiting for him to read the article about the Warrior of Light’s -  _ his boyfriend’s _ \-  _ sexual history _ .

He stared at the cover some more, wondering how his long lifetime of studying, destiny and changing fate had gotten to this point.

“Sweetness?” He heard No’a call. He vaguely made a mental note that the bard now owed him something equal to or greater than the heavy amount of embarrassment he was now feeling.

G’raha took a deep breath, and sighed loudly, accidentally catching everyone’s attention in the process.  _ Wicked white, I’m really about to do this. _

“There’s only one way to properly settle this… Only one way to know for certain…” he repeated to himself in an effort to steel himself for the task, and opened the tabloid to the page advertised on the cover. The Rising Stones fell completely silent, all eyes fixed on the Seeker as he skimmed the words with a more serious look than what was perhaps necessary. Thankfully, G’raha was a quick reader - though that didn’t stop the steady blush on his round face slowly getting deeper in colour the further down he read.

Everyone jumped and glared in unison when Y’shtola clinked her teaspoon against her saucer. She smiled innocently and sipped her tea once more.

“... I see.”

G’raha shut the magazine decisively and nodded, turning to No’a while clearing his throat and avoiding the looks of everyone else. “Though it may seem legitimate to the unknowing reader, I can conclude that the article’s supposed secrets are indeed total fabrications,” he reported, forcing a completely matter-of-fact tone. “Anyone here would be able to tell, as a matter of fact - the anonymous sources were claiming these… events… to be very recent.”

“Told ya,” No’a grinned. “So there’s nothing to-“

“ _ However, _ Qhita was quite right to be concerned when we consider your public image across Eorzea,” G’raha continued firmly, rolling up the magazine and walking over to the reception desk to sit in its plush chair. “When Tataru comes back from her time with the Ironworks, I shall ask her to use her contacts to get this magazine taken off the shelves as soon as possible. The Warrior of Light’s name shall not be sullied by these kinds of things.”

Qhita nodded approvingly. “See, I knew you were the clever type! Glad to know someone else knows what’s best for my brother,” she said, walking over to clap G’raha on the shoulder. The Seeker nearly buckled from the action, but offered a weak smile up to the woman nonetheless.

With the situation seemingly resolved peacefully, the crowd of Scions slowly dispersed back around the Rising Stones, talking and whispering and laughing amongst themselves. Y’shtola took another biscuit, Thancred headed into Dawn’s Respite, and Qhita had a few more stern but quiet words for No’a in a lone corner, gesturing to G’raha every once in a while. G’raha vaguely heard “keep him” but little else, though he smiled nonetheless just watching the two from his seat at Tataru’s desk. He’d only seen Qhita once - a long time ago and only briefly, when she’d dragged No’a back to St Coinach’s Find after he’d had a few drinks too many at Seventh Heaven - but he’d heard about her both from No’a and some vague rumours from the ruined timeline. It was nice to finally meet her and put a face to a name after so long.

_ Although the situation definitely could’ve been better,  _ he thought with a small shake of his head.  _ Maybe we should invite her to lunch to make up for it. _

Once Qhita had finished her piece she made her way out of the Rising Stones, but not without a quick polite wave to G’raha that he happily returned. No’a walked up to the reception desk and hugged G’raha from behind his chair, resting his chin on top of the Seeker’s head.

“Did she lecture you?” G’raha teased, his tail moving to loosely wrap around No’a’s leg.

“Yeah… You and sis  _ did _ have a point, though, and I didn’t even think about how you might’ve felt reading about my potentially legit one-night stands… so I’m sorry sweetness,” No’a apologised, his rougher childhood accent now gone from his voice.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, love,” G’raha reassured him, raising a hand to pat his cheek. “If anything, I’m jealous that your wild nights sound more fun than my nights at that age.”

“Studying?”

“Studying.”

No’a huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of soft red hair. “If this magazine  _ had _ been printed a few years back, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but I guess now I’ve gotten a bit too big to  _ not  _ keep an eye on things like that…” He hummed in discontent, remembering something. “Remind me to make a snarky comment at Pops later, by the way. He reveled in the situation  _ far _ too much.”

“Not Y’shtola as well? She seemed all too amused.”

“Would  _ you _ make a comment at Shtola?”

“Ah, no, that’s a fair argument.” G’raha chuckled and idly flicked the pages of the magazine. “You were right though, about the contents of the article being entirely fake. I could tell instantly.”

No’a made a questioning noise. “Really? But you looked at it for a good minute or two - really serious too, like you were, what’s the word… analysing it.”

“That was an act,” G’raha admitted freely. “To save you some embarrassment. The date discrepancy was true, but there was something even more blatantly obvious.”

“Blatantly obvious, you say~?” No’a’s voice turned devilishly curious. “And you think I, in all my shameless glory, would get  _ embarrassed _ by it? Now I  _ have _ to know what made you so sure!”

The Seeker smirked to himself, putting the magazine on the desk out of No’a’s reach. “I’m not sure you do~”

“And  _ I’m _ pretty sure I do~”

“Hmm…”

“Please~?”

“If you’re that curious, why don’t you read it yourself?”

“I want to see if you know me well~” No’a tightened his hug and whispered in his ear, his smug lopsided grin nearly audible. “Was it something  _ dirty~?” _

G’raha sighed deeply and quickly glanced around to see if anyone was within listening distance. Thankfully, the majority of Scions seemed to be involved with another squatting competition.

“You’re really not going to let it rest, are you?” He stated rather than asked.

“Nope~” No’a sang.

“Very well.” G’raha reached behind him to grab No’a by the collar of his button-up shirt (which seemed like an ironic description given how few of those buttons were actually used) and pulled him down to his level so he could kiss the bard’s cheek and whisper directly into No’a’s ear, low and smug and just the right amount of teasing.

“The gentleman they claimed to have interviewed said you looked every bit the stoic, rugged hero on top of him. That hardly seems like you, my dear… Try as you might, you’re every  _ ilm _ the begging receiver. And very vocal, at that~”

No’a  _ blushed, _ jumping away from G’raha’s  _ tempting _ voice and clearing his throat with a weak grin to save face. “Ah, that’s… Y-yup, that’ll… that’ll do it,” he muttered, just as embarrassed as G’raha suspected - if there was one thing about the incredibly bold, smugly confident, infinitely flirtatious bard that No’a never wanted to go public…

“You owe me dinner for all this,” G’raha changed the subject smoothly, his tail batting No’a’s shin playfully.

“That’s… fair, actually,” the bard admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got it, sweetness. But can I at least use the voucher on the back of the magazine?”

“I dare say they’ll be invalid once we recall all the issues.”

“Aww…”


End file.
